


Fortune and Consequence

by Millerita



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millerita/pseuds/Millerita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane Eyre AU, Miss Belle French is an unfortunate creature, orphaned and cast out by her aunt she finds herself at a school for girls. Her life slowly leads her to a wealthy landowner, Mr. Cameron Gold, who is in need of a governess for his young son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Most Unfortunate Creature

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, neither Once Upon a Time or Jane Eyre. There are a few lines borrowed directly from either the book or the movies.

            In truth I never imagined that my life would take the path it did. Having grown up under less than promising circumstances it is a true wonder I made it as far as teaching. My life did not start out as an unhappy one, I never considered mine to be an unfortunate lot, although others have informed me that it is a tale of woe. I have never thought of it thus. Despite this feeling, I do occasionally wonder how I would have been altered if these events unfolded differently. If it still would have led me to him…

 

            I am getting ahead of myself.

 

            My mother passed in childbirth. I was always struck by the irony that to bring life into this world my mother had to sacrifice her own. As I’ve grown older I see it less as irony and more as a trade in the eyes of the Lord. While the heavenly Father saw it a fair exchange, my earthly father did not. He spent the last of his years in a drunken haze, mourning my mother and cursing my existence. He was constantly of the opinion that if I had been a boy none of it would have happened. A boy would have strength enough of his own to leave mother enough to survive.

 

            It was a dreadful notion to have growing up, that you stole your mother’s strength and robbed your father of his will to live. However, I was thoroughly punished for these actions and feel as those penance has long since been paid. After father’s death I was sent to live with my uncle and his family. While my uncle was a kindly man, death soon took him as well, leaving me quite alone with his wife. Aunt Malvina, a cruel woman who bore nothing for me but hatred. I am ashamed to admit I returned the sentiment. And the same for her ghastly children.

 

            “Little bell.” Came the taunt of cousin Humbert. I suppose if I had been named Humbert I would have become a bully as well. My breath caught as he crept past my hiding place, a book on English Ornithology still clutched to my chest. It was uncle’s book, not Humbert’s and I had every right to read it. Though he disagreed and was keen to remind me as much.

 

            “Come now little bell, I shan’t ring you too hard. Come out, come out.” His voice moved further down the hall. Securing myself behind the curtains, tucked in the corner of the window seat was proving to be a wise choice. Or so I thought.

 

            The gasp escaped me before I could stop it. For a moment I worried that the noise would attract my cousin’s attention, when in reality it was prompted by Humbert suddenly pulling back the curtain that hid me. His play sword held firmly at my throat. I never felt such dislike for a person, until he pulled the book from my hands.

 

            “This is my book! If I say you may not read it then you may NOT read it!” He warned, his tone low and threatening. A disturbing sound to come from a 12 year old. He was 3 years older than me, though his size was greater than these meager years of difference. He towered over me in height, I could not begin to figure out the advantage in weight. However, that would never stopped me when properly provoked. My stature may be small, were I described in a book I may be listed as the petite heroine, with pale skin and dark locks. My aunt so despised my hair, she tried to force out the curl, however her efforts were met with stubbornness. So instead I was forced to always wear braids and buns, to keep the treasure concealed. My only true beauty according to my old nurse. The only thing fitting my namesake.

 

            “It was uncle’s book and he always allowed me to read from his library.” I challenged, standing up on the window seat so that I might have some advantage over my brute of a relative.

 

            “Well he’s dead, as the man of the house it is mine and I shall do with it as I please.”

 

            “You aren’t going to read it!”

 

            “No, I shall find a better use for it.” With that he tossed his sword aside. I was so distracted by the clank of metal hitting the floor that I didn’t realize he was swinging the book through the air, finally making contact with my head. The force of the blow knocked me into the wall. At once I felt a throb of pain and a cold trickle of blood making its journey down the side of my face. Something with in me snapped.

 

            Despite my blurring vision and the feeling that the room was spinning, I launched myself at my cousin, knocking him to the floor. His arms covered his face, but it did not deter me from hitting him. None of my blows seemed to actually land anywhere that damage may be done. In all honesty I was far too frail to hurt him, but that did not curb the rage within me. Even as I was pulled off of him.

 

            “Lock her downstairs.” I heard my aunt’s voice break through the sound of blood rushing in my ears.

 

            “NO!” I screamed, “No! It’s his fault! His!”

 

            I could faintly hear my cousin concocting a tale of how I jumped out from behind the curtain and attacked him. Liars. All of them. My aunt for her lies to care for me, Humbert for the falsehoods of his attack. I hated them all, but more than anything I hated being locked downstairs.

 

            I screamed and thrashed as the maids struggled to pull me along.

 

            “Please! No! Please!” I wailed, but to no end. The heavy wooden door squeaked open, without opening my eyes I knew I was being forced into the lone chair in the cell. It was once a room for storing preserves, but now it was used as a chamber to punish me. There was a small window that let in precious little light but a fair amount of cold air. I refused to open my eyes until the door locked and I heard the turn of the key.

 

            Alone.

 

            The blood had made it’s way down my face, coloring the curve of my neck and reaching my shoulder, leaving a streak staining my dress. The room felt smaller than usual. My stomach tensed, feeling as though it were in my throat, I could not stop the spinning. Nothing could.

 

            “Let me out! Let me out of here, please!” I screamed, stumbling to the door and banging against it until my fists bled. With no other option left I ran full speed at the door, my head making contact with the wood. The first hit didn’t do the trick but the second was hard enough to render me unconscious.

 

            Silence.

 

            I lay, not moving, on the cold stone floor of the cell. Surely this must be hell.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Belle French.” Mr. Glass circled me where I stood in the drawing room. I had been placed on a footstool so that he could inspect me. “Do you know what hell is?”

 

            “A pit of fire below the earth, where the wicked are sent for their sins.” I answered. Although I knew the truth. Hell was a cold cell in the basement where children were left broken and bleeding, punishment for merely existing. Were I to describe a wicked man I would offer a description of Mr. Glass or Aunt Malvina.

 

Sidney Glass, a clergyman and headmaster for Westland School for Girls. I would come to know him as a cruel and unfeeling man, an inclination I had upon our first meeting in the drawing room and came to recognize an indisputable truth as time went on. He was a tall, slender man, a slight tan to his skin from years of missionary work around the world. I can only imagine what foreign peoples must think of the English with Mr. Glass as our representative.

 

            “Should you wish to go to hell, Miss French?”

 

            “No, sir.”

 

“How do you propose you avoid the journey?”

 

            “Keep in good health, avoid death as one might avoid a plague.”

 

            “She is impertinent.” Mr. Glass observed to my aunt who wore an expression of false concern.

 

            “Nothing that strict discipline could not fix. I have tried to care for the girl, loved her as my own. But she will not be swayed. I believe a demon to dwell within that innocent form.”

 

            I bit my tongue, partially to keep from contradicting my aunt and also to keep the look of disgust from my face as Mr. Glass took a long, lingering appraisal of my form. I found myself longing for home, any home, just as long I was not in my aunt’s house or in the presence of Mr. Glass ever again. Of course that was not to be the case.

 

            “Very well, I shall take her. Worry not, the girl shall be cured of this demon.” Mr. Glass announced, nodding to Aunt Malvina and taking his leave of the room.

 

            “Climb down from there, you’ll stain the fabric.” She ordered the moment we were alone. I did as I was told, turning my own severe stare to my Aunt. She lounged across the chaise as if some sort of cat.

 

            “I shall not lie.” She quirked an eyebrow at my statement. “I shall not lie and say that I will miss you. I shan’t. Everyone will know that you are the liar, that you have failed to keep the promise you made to uncle as he died. That you neglected and bullied me, that you allowed your children to abuse me as if I were a poorly behaved pet. You shall live with the guilt that you have broken your word and cast me off to strangers. Goodbye, aunt.”

 

            I did not wait for a reply. My few belongings were packed and I found myself being led away by Mr. Glass. We would journey that night, arriving at Westland as the sun rose over the land. My eyes fell upon the massive stone structure. I could tell that it would be as cold inside as it appeared outside. This would be an unhappy place, but I would bear it. What else could I do? Such an unfortunate creature as myself would have no other options.

 

            “Our first lesson shall be in discipline.” Mr. Glass announced as he walked me toward the front door. It was clear, my first day would not be an easy one. Nor the next day, or the day after that. 


	2. A New Cage

        Westland School for Girls. A new cage to hold me. I remember that first day as clearly as I recall yesterday. Mr. Glass escorted me to the front hall and sent me off with the superintendent, Miss Astrid Temple, a kind woman with a gentle disposition. Miss Astrid was one of the few bright spots of Westland. The true misfortune of the school was Mr. Glass’s companion, Miss Faire. An unfortunate name as she was anything but. Where Miss Astrid was concerned for her students and their well being, Miss Faire was cruel and took great delight in doling out punishment.

 

            Mr. Glass had no real intention of marrying her, but took his own pleasure in stringing her along. If he was visiting the school, the beatings in her classes doubled, to show him what a skilled disciplinarian she was. As though his affection would be determined by the number of bruises she left on her students. Were this the case there would be no doubt of his feelings.

 

            “Miss Astrid, please take Miss French to change. Then call for the entire school to convene in the main hall. We must begin Miss French’s first lesson.”

 

            “Yes sir.”

 

            Miss Astrid led me up a winding staircase, the wood beneath my feet was worn, it creaked with age. There was a large room, with two long rows of beds. No girls were they, already in their lessons for the day. I was left with a set of work clothes and told to change then return downstairs.

 

            Glass was there to lead me into the large hall, rows of girls were there in matching uniforms. The same clothes that I now wore on my own back. At the front of the room was a stool, small and probably uncomfortable to sit on.

 

            “Miss Astrid.” Mr. Glass nodded to the woman. Her gaze drifted downwards for a moment before taking me by the waist and lifting me to stand on the stool. “Children, I exalt you to withhold the hand of friendship from Belle French. Show her no kindness, pay her no heed, exclude her from all activities. She is to spend the day on that stool, no food, no water. This girl is an impertinent liar, within her there is a demon which will corrupt any that befriend this child.”

 

            With his declaration of condemnation complete, Mr. Glass left and the girls dispersed, Miss Faire disappearing after the former.

 

            I was left on the pedestal of infamy, my classmates filing past, refusing to make eye contact… all except one girl.  

 

            Hours passed. I remained standing. No one was present, I suppose I could have sat down, no one would have known. Except I would have. It would have been dishonest and despite what others said, I have never been a liar. So there I stood, serving penance for acts I did not commit, for a demon that did not in fact dwell within me. Surely someone would recognize the facts.

 

            The sky was darkening when I heard someone creep into the room. A girl from the assembly, the only one who dared meet my gaze. I could see a mess of black curls concealed beneath her bonnet. Her lips were red from constantly being bitten, the shade of which was almost ruby. Quietly she held out a small piece of bread to me, something she had pilfered from dinner. It wasn’t until I went to raise the crust to my mouth that I realized just how weak I had become. With a gentle sway I suddenly found myself lying on the floor, bread still clutched in my hand.

 

            “You made it longer than anyone else.” The girl whispered, cushioning my head in her lap. “Just close your eyes for a few moments.”

 

            “Helen Hood, what is the meaning of this?” Came a voice from the door. I was too dizzy to try and sit up just yet.

 

            “She collapsed, Miss Astrid.” I could hear the woman moving closer to us, but couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes again.

 

            “Of course. Archaic method of punishment. Don’t worry Miss French, when Mr. Glass takes his leave for the month there will be no more stool standing.” Miss Astrid promised. Finally I convinced my eyes to flutter open, focusing on the two faces above me. “Helen, help Miss French to her bed, please.”

 

            “Come on, you’ll be all right.” Helen slipped her arm around my waist and led me back to towards the staircase I had been taken to earlier in the day. “You must learn to keep your head down, it’s the only way to survive here.”

 

            “It has always been rather easy for me to go unnoticed. But my aunt made it clear to Mr. Glass that I should be dealt with rather firmly. I’m afraid that has left me in his eye line.”

 

            “He will only be here until the end of the week, then returns to finding new girls for the school.” She reassured me. Helen took me to the empty bed next to hers. She smiled at me as she helped untie my bonnet.

 

            “You aren’t afraid of me?” I heard my whisper breaking through the silence.

 

            “Of course not. You are not the only one Mr. Glass disapproves of.”

 

            “May I call you friend?”

 

            “I should like that very much, Belle.” Helen smiled, removing her own bonnet, letting her black curls fall down her back. She was truly the prettiest thing I have ever seen in my life. Prettier than any painting that hung on the walls at my Uncle’s house, prettier than any sketch I had ever found in a book. I felt myself quite incapable of feeling envy towards Helen, it would have been a waste for me to be that beautiful, because I would not be able to see myself.

 

            “I should like that as well.”

 

            I suddenly found myself with a real friend.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            There are few talents I possess. I’ve a skill for learning French, English is my best subject, but more than anything I can draw. Though I never showed anyone before Westland, no one would ever have cared. But one day, during our hour outside, Helen peeked over my shoulder and caught sight of my sketch. I had drawn the school, wearing down my pencil while shading the dark corners. I would have to sharpen it again before I added the grey clouds that were hanging low in the sky. Rain was coming.

 

            “I didn’t know you were an artist!” She exclaimed.

 

            “I’m not. I’m really not, Helen. I just… I just draw.”

 

            “You do it beautifully. Would you… do you think you could draw me?”

 

            “Of course.” I took her hand and pulled her down next to me on the bench. “Take off your bonnet.”

 

            It was as I added the final curl to Helen’s likeness that I realized there were two figures approaching us. My heart fell to my feet. Miss Faire and Mr. Glass, both wearing stern expressions.

 

            “Miss Hood, why have you removed your bonnet?” Miss Faire screeched, as though the sight of Helen’s hair was an abomination against the Lord.

 

            “I asked her to.” I suddenly offered. “I was drawing her likeness and asked her to remove her bonnet. It’s my fault.”

 

            “Impertinence!” Mr. Glass bellowed. I was beginning to think that was the only word he knew. It was as though he could never recall my name and just shouted the first word to come to mind. “And vanity. You girls shall be punished for these sins.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

            The courtyard was wet. Rain had started to fall shortly before we were sent out to perform our penance. The board around Helen’s neck read ‘Vanity’ while mine said ‘Impertinence.’ The water had no where to go, so much falling so fast, it couldn’t drain out in time. So we trudged through ankle deep water, forced to walk in circles with our sins hung round our shoulders. For two hours we walked, under the watchful eye of Miss Faire.

 

            It was our good fortune that Dr. Leopold arrived when he did. The doctor was a good man, one of the best I’ve ever known. He was older, with white hair that wrapped around the back of his head from ear to ear. We heard his shouts before we saw him.

 

            “Have you lost all sense, Miss Faire! Half of your students are already sick with typhus. Sending children out to march in the rain will only lead to more illness!” I had never heard the doctor raise his voice before. Were I on the receiving end of such anger I would not be taking it as well as Miss Faire.

 

            “Girls, girls come in here now!” We heard him call to us. I took Helen’s hand and we ran into the warmth of the building. Seconds after entering the room I felt the hand in mine go limp as Helen fell to the floor.

 

            “Helen! Helen.” I knelt down beside her, cradling her head in my lap as she had done for me months earlier. She was burning up, I could hear that she was struggling to breathe. I was vaguely aware of Dr. Leopold picking her slack body up and starting to walk away. Miss Astrid appeared at my side and pulled me along to the sick room. The wet clothes were done away with, replaced with our nightgowns and wool socks. Bed warmers from two of the teachers were brought in for us, a rare treat for students.

 

            Aside from being cold and wet, I really didn’t feel that poorly. Helen on the other hand was shivering, despite her fever and coughing with a force that left my own chest hurting from sound alone. Dr. Leopold did what he could to make her comfortable, but told Miss Astrid that the only real option was to wait and see. We were left alone then, two friends in warm beds. Helen wheezing, me shivering. It was an hour before I finally dozed off. Only to wake a few hours later as Helen was faced with another coughing fit.

 

            “Helen?” I ventured carefully, climbing from my bed to stand next to hers. After a moment she seemed to realize I was there and reached for my hand.

 

            “Oh, Belle. You’re frozen, come, climb in with me.” With great difficulty she shifted to allow room to share. Her own hand was as warm as if she had been holding it over a fire. There was a constant flow of sweat beading down her forehead and slicking her dark curls.

 

            “Are you going to be all right, Helen?”

 

            “I will, Belle. I’m going home.”

 

            “Home?”

 

            “To heaven.” She rasped, another fit of coughs taking control of her. “Oh, don’t so look so sad.”

 

            “I must look sad, you’re my only friend. I won’t be able to go on without you.”

 

            “You will, Belle. Promise me you will live with the greatest of vigor. Find the pleasures in life, find joy, don’t let grief take you.”

 

            “I promise.” I sniffled, tears running down my cheeks as I clasped her hand tighter. “I promise, Helen Hood.”

 

            Her eyes drifted shut and mine soon followed.

 

            It wasn’t until morning, as Doctor Leopold lifted me from the bed and Miss Astrid pulled a sheet over Helen’s lifeless body that I realized me true fear; it had not been a dream. Helen was dead and again I found myself alone in a cage.


	3. Arrangements and Arrivals

            Ten years had passed since Helen was taken. I endeavored to keep my promise but struggled at first, after weeks of grieving Miss Astrid put her foot down. Calling me into her office she took the seat opposite me rather than sitting behind her desk.

 

            “I know you and Helen were close.” She began gently.

 

            “She was my only friend.”

 

            “And she wouldn’t want you to waste yourself moping over something that cannot be changed.”

 

            I knew Miss Astrid was right, and I had promised Helen not to let grief take over. So I went back to my everyday activities. Classes were tolerable, the other girls didn’t accept me, but they no longer shunned me. Because of what happened to Helen, Mr. Glass was removed from his post and replaced by Mr. Marco. He was older, but seemed to have a genuine care for the goings on at the school.

 

            The years were easier and upon my nineteenth birthday I believed myself to be happy. I was no longer a student and had been taken on as a teacher. Although I loved the girls I taught, when an offer to work as a governess arrived I could not turn it down. Something within me made it impossible for me to say ‘no.’ I had never really considered being a governess, living in someone else’s home, teaching their children. It always struck me as an odd luxury.

 

            Mrs. Lucas wrote with the details, I would be seeing to the education of a twelve-year-old boy named Baelfire. The boy must be of noble stature to have such a name. I had never before taught a boy, but relished the challenge. On my last day at Westland School for Girls, Miss Astrid was there to say goodbye, as were my students. Of course Miss Faire was standing by, shooing them back inside to continue their lessons. My departure was not reason enough to allow students to leave the classroom.

 

            It was a long carriage ride to Thornfield Hall. There was only one other passenger in the coach and he had no intentions of speaking to me. So I occupied myself with small sketches in my notebook and enjoying the scenery. Traveling was never an option for me, the last carriage I rode in was the one that took me from Aunt Malvina’s estate to the school. While I enjoyed the view, the constant motion was making me nauseous, only adding to my nerves.

 

            After hours of nothing but dark woods, flooded with fog, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. Suddenly the trees parted and there were large, sprawling lawns. Dark green grass surrounded the hulking stone structure, as if the blades were acting as a moat. Were I a more timid girl, I would have found Thornfield intimidating, but instead I felt more of a kinship towards the manor. Under other circumstances it would have appeared to me as another dark cage, meant to entrap me. I was entering here of my own will, to me Thornfield was a symbol of my freedom.

 

            An old woman met me at the door, dressed in black and bundled in layers, her white hair carefully tucked securely under a bonnet, a candle in her hand. She stared at me, saying nothing for a long moment, assessing my appearance. I know very well what she is thinking, it’s what everyone thinks when they consider my form, I don’t imagine many people give me that much thought. But I know that she is considering my slight frame, that I’m rather skinny. There’s a paleness to my skin that almost glows by the light of her candle, it always makes my blue eyes appear rather ghostly.

 

            “You are much younger than I expected.” She finally said, moving back from the door so that I could come in from the cold.

 

            “I am quite capable, I assure you, Mrs. Lucas.” I managed, keeping a firm grasp on my lone suitcase, my bag from the journey tucked under my arm.

 

            “Don’t worry, dear, I’m just surprised. Everyone seems so young when compared to me.” She chuckled, closing and locking the door. I stared slack jawed at my surroundings. There was a grand staircase that led upstairs, from there the landing wrapped around, allowing anyone passing by to glance down and observe the goings on of the main floor. Through the nearest door I could see a sitting room, a small fire was roaring in the hearth and looked so very welcoming. I hadn’t realized how cold I had been in the carriage until I went to climb out and found my limbs stiff from the chilly air.

 

            “It’s a lot to take in, I know.” Mrs. Lucas offered, appearing at my side. “Come, I’ll show you to your room and then you can join me for a cup of tea.”

 

            “Sounds lovely.” I smiled, following her up the staircase and through, what felt like, a winding maze of corridors. My room was near the end of a hallway, a long gap between one closed door to my own, before ending at a staircase leading to one of the turrets of the manor.

 

            “This will be your room.” She announced, pushing the door open. I could scarcely believe it. “Will it suit you?”

 

            “I don’t know what to say.” I finally managed, setting my battered case down and looking around the room. There was a four-poster bed, a dresser with a mirror, a small bookshelf, and three large windows overlooking the grassy hill I observed while the carriage drove up. “I’ve never had a room of my own before. Thank you, Mrs. Lucas.”

 

            The woman smiled and patted my hand.

 

            “I’m just happy to have another room in use. Come on, we’ll have that tea and you can warm up by the fire.”

 

            “Are there not many in the household?” I asked, following her back downstairs, both of us taking seats close to the fire. The sitting room was large, with tapestries hanging from the walls, breaking up the monotonous brick that lingered between windows.

 

            “More often than not it’s just Bae and myself, we have the cook and a few men who see to the grounds, but they don’t stay in the main house. Then Mr. Gold will stop through as business allows.”

 

            “Who is Mr. Gold?” I asked rather ignorantly, taking a drink from my cup.

 

            “Who’s--?” She stared at me in surprise for a moment. “Mr. Cameron Gold is the master of Thornfield. Your new pupil, Baelfire, is his son.”

 

            “Oh, I had thought that this was your home.” That earned a long, drawn out laugh. Mrs. Lucas had to set her cup down to press her hand against her chest as she continued to chuckle.

 

            “Me? The mistress of Thornfield? You are a queer little thing, aren’t you? Where on earth would you have gotten that idea?”

 

            “I just assumed, there was no mention in the letter of Mr. Gold. I thought that Baelfire was your son.”

 

            “Heavens no, dear. I’ve no children of my own and Mr. Lucas is long since passed. Bae is an interesting young man, I’m sure the two of you will get on quite well. I was so pleased when Mr. Gold finally gave me permission to advertise for a governess. The boy has such an eagerness to learn, not to mention the amount of time he spends alone. We can all do with a bit more company.”

 

            “I hope I’ll be able to fill the position well.”

 

            “I’m sure of it, dear. Why don’t you head up to bed, I’m sure you’re quite tired after your journey.”

 

            “Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Lucas.” The woman just nodded to me as I took my leave of the room.

 

            I walked slowly, looking over every piece of art and architecture I could make out in the dark. The house was beautiful, despite it’s foreboding exterior, the inside was capable of taking my breath away. It was at that moment I knew, I could truly learn to love Thornfield, to consider it my home. As I climbed into bed I found myself wondering who Mr. Cameron Gold was and why he would abandon such a place?

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “Good morning, Miss Belle.” A young man greeted me as I sat down to breakfast with Mrs. Lucas. She had nudged the boy to stand when I entered the room, then nodded to let him know that he may retake his seat once I had taken mine.

 

            “Good morning.” I smiled, there was a light in this boy, an energy. His smile was bright and his eyes shone with excitement. “You must be Baelfire.”

 

            “Yes, Miss Belle. Please, call me Bae. Tell me, will we being lessons today?” He asked, finishing off a piece of toast that had been drenched in jam.

 

            “I thought it might be a good idea. Have you had much education previously?”

 

            “No, Miss. Papa taught me to read and some basic mathematics, but very little beyond that. Business calls him away so often.”

 

            “Any languages?” I asked, lightly buttering my own slice of toast as he started into another one, much to Mrs. Lucas’s distaste.

 

            “Baelfire, you do not need _that_ much jam.” She admonished him. “What if Miss Belle wanted some?”

 

            He paused and shifted his gaze to me, so utterly surprised by the concept that someone else might like the spread for their breakfast.

 

            “That’s all right Bae, you make take the portion I might have had.” I reassured him. This seemed to please him thoroughly before answering my previous question.

 

            “I know a bit of French, though it isn’t very strong. Some Latin, but I’ve always found Latin to be terribly dull. Half the chapters in the lesson book are about a cart being stuck in a ditch. It’s a dead language.” He declared firmly.

 

            “Just because you find it dull doesn’t make it less than worthy of learning. Latin can be an interesting language if taught correctly. But we’ll focus more on French, I think you might find that more useful. One is more likely to encounter a Frenchman than a Roman.”

 

            And so our lessons began. I found Bae to be a bright young man, eager to learn all that I might teach him. In exchange he attempted to teach me a few things, including sword fighting, which vexed Mrs. Lucas to no end. She was quickly concerned that I was becoming far too attached to the boy, warning that should the master return one day and marry I would have to face leaving the child. But that was of no concern, to me it was a far off possibility that might never come to light.

 

            “Belle, would you be a dear and take this into town.” Mrs. Lucas asked one afternoon as we finished our lunch. “They need to be posted today and I’ve got to deal with George when he returns with the food stores for the month.”

 

            “Of course, Mrs. Lucas.” I enjoyed walking through the ground of Thornfield, then along the path that took me through the woods, eventually leading to the main road to town. The weather had grown colder, which I didn’t notice until half way back. The sun had set and I found myself quite alone in the middle of the dark forest. I didn’t feel afraid, but there was a strange sensation growing in the pit of my stomach. Pulling my cloak closer, I continued on my way.

 

            It was moments later when I turned back that I heard the whinny of a horse and a curse as the rider fell to the ground. The animal rest on top of the man for a moment, before finding his footing and moving a few paces away.

 

            “Are you all right?” I asked, concerned, but keeping my distance from the strange man.

 

            “Hardly, shall we drop a horse on your leg and see how well you are?” He grumbled, not looking up at me just yet. His dog circling him eagerly, “down, Pilot!”

 

            “I’m terribly sorry if I spooked your animal.” I tried, moving a few steps closer. It was dark and difficult to make out the details of the man’s face, but I could make out some features. A slightly crooked nose, shoulder length hair that had a wave to it, and what appeared to be a perpetual frown.

 

            His eyes slowly assessed me, it was unlike anything I had experience before. Normally when people looked over my person they wore an expression of disapproval or judgment, I could always tell what they were thinking. This man was giving no indication of his thoughts.

 

            “What are you waiting for, girl?” He finally demanded, pulling himself into a sitting position against a large rock.

 

            “I cannot go until I see that you are fit to ride. Would you like me to fetch help?”

 

            “Don’t bother, dearie. There are no broken bones, just a sprain.” He muttered, looking over me once again. “What on earth are you doing out here in the dark? Where do you come from?”

 

            “Thornfield, I was posting letters in town for the housekeeper.” I explain quickly.

 

            “And what do you do at Thornfield?”

 

            “I’m the governess.”

 

            “Ah, and how do you find Mr. Gold?” He asked, trying to stand on his own.

 

            “I’ve never seen him.”

 

            “Come, I require your aid.” He held an arm out so that he could slide it around my shoulders and limp to his horse.

 

            The man mounted his horse and with one last nod to me, continued on his way. I waited a few moments until he was out of my sight before continuing along. It would not do to spook the animal a second time. There was something odd about the meeting but I pushed it from my mind.

 

            As I opened the door to enter the great hall of Thornfield I was met first by a familiar dog, eager to lick my fingers.

 

            “Pilot?” I ventured carefully. The greyhound looked up, responding to the name. My breath caught in my throat. It couldn’t be.

 

            “There you are, Belle!” Mrs. Lucas greeted me in a huff. “Mr. Gold has returned and is demanding to see you. His horse took a spill on the journey back and the master has sprained his ankle. Go through, hurry up.”

 

            I walked slowly to the study, Pilot at my heels. I slowly pushed the door open the rest of the way, spotting familiar waves of hair over the top of the chair that faced away from me. Bae took notice of me first, smiling brightly as he rushed to take my hand.

 

            “Papa, this is Miss Belle French.” He introduced proudly. Turning in the chair I found myself face to face with Mr. Gold, very much the same man I had just seen in the woods.

 

            “Miss French, what kept you?”


	4. Amusement and Duels

            “Well don’t just stand there staring, sit.” Mr. Gold commanded. Clearly he noticed my look of reproach when being addressed in the same manner as Pilot. “I mean, if you’d like.”

 

            Bae pushed me towards the empty chair across from Mr. Gold, before taking his own seat on the footstool beside me. It took a moment to realize what was sitting in Gold’s lap, my worn portfolio of drawings and painting from over the years. Bae must have brought it out while being questioned by his father about his new governess. I was embarrassed more than anything, my sketches were usually kept private until I felt ready to share them.

 

            “Look what papa has brought me, Miss Belle!” Bae excitedly held up a new set of play swords. “Perhaps we could try them after lessons tomorrow?”

 

            “Miss French, you’re handy with a blade?” Mr. Gold asked, amused at the notion.

 

            “I made an agreement with Bae, he attempts Latin and I attempt sword play.” I explained, feeling a rush of heat at my cheeks.

 

            “My son has a penchant for deal making. Takes after me in that regard.” I nodded, still trying to decide my feelings on this interrogation. There was something about being under Mr. Gold’s watchful eye that left me feeling dizzy. I could not determine if it was from nerves or something else, something I couldn’t quite identify.

 

            “Did you bring Miss Belle a present, papa?” Bae asked suddenly breaking my line of thought. I glanced at the boy in surprise, as did his father, although the latter was better at hiding his reaction.

 

            “Did you expect a present, Miss French? Are you fond of presents?”

 

            “I do not know, sir. I have had very little experience with presents. Though they are generally thought to be pleasant.” I answered honestly.

 

            “They are thought so, but what do you think of them, Miss French?”

 

            “Presents come in different forms, sir.”

 

            “That they do. How long have you been in my house?”

 

            “Three months now, sir.”

 

            “Three months…” He repeated, his gaze falling to where his son sat at my side. The boy was trying to follow the conversation, but had decided to rest his head against my leg. “I see a great improvement in Bae, his manners alone. Then his wit, you must be a capable governess.”

 

            “There, sir. Now I have had my present.” I don’t know what provoked me, it was as if I had lost the ability to hold my tongue. He chuckled, drinking from his glass of brandy.

 

            “Where do you come from?”

 

            “Westland.”

 

            “What a dreadful place. How long were you there for?”

 

            “Ten years, sir. Eight as a student, two as a teacher.”

 

            “No wonder you look so starved for life, did they not feed you?”

 

            “Not when they could help it.” I offered, again prompting a smile from him.

 

            “Is that how you bewitched my horse? Did he recognize you as a creature not of this world? A fairy perhaps?”

 

            “I did not bewitch your horse, sir. The ground was covered with ice.”

 

            “And yet you remained upright. Yes, I shall continue to labor under the notion that you are an otherworldly creature. That is the only explanation for these.” He gestured to open folder in his lap, shifting through the sketches again. “Are these ideas all from your head?”

 

            “They are, sir.”

 

            “Were you happy when you painted them?” He asked, turning one for me to see. It was one I had done recently, of the forest that surrounded Thornfield and the eyes of Helen Hood peering out from within.

 

            “I was occupied, I was not unhappy.” Again the surprise of my honest answers registered on his face before disappearing just as quickly.

 

            “What of your family, Miss French? How did you find yourself here?”

 

            “I have no family and I am here because I advertised, sir.”

 

            “No family? What, at all?” He seemed taken back by this notion. “What of your parents?”

 

            “Dead, sir. My mother in childbirth, my father from drink.”

 

            “Drink? While in mourning for your mother, no doubt.”

 

            “Yes, sir.” I finally managed to bite my tongue. Even after nineteen years of life there are some topics that are forever painful to broach, especially by a relative stranger in such a caviler manner. He paused for a moment, watching as my hand absently stroked Bae’s hair, the boy was drifting off, bored by the conversation of adults.

 

            “We men are a curious sort, lose our heads and our lives over any woman who deem take the time to ensnare us. Who saw to you after that?”

 

            “My uncle took me in, but he too passed, leaving me in his wife’s care.”

 

            “His wife? You mean your aunt.”

 

            “I do not regard her as family any longer. I was cast out and sent to Westland.”

 

            “Were you there under Mr. Glass?”

 

            “Yes, sir.” He laughed heartily at my response.

 

            “Apologies, Miss French. Your expression spoke volumes of your experiences with Mr. Glass. A dastardly man, which is quite indictment of character coming from someone like me.” His laugh was unexpected, it thrilled me to realize that I could provoke such a reaction from a man such as him.

 

            “I did not have pleasant experiences with Mr. Glass.”

 

            “Most have not.” He nodded, enjoying more brandy. “Why did your aunt cast you out?”

 

            “She did not like me, considered me a burden. When I fought back against my cousin’s abuse she cast me off, into Mr. Glass’s hands.”

 

            “Quite the tale of woe, Miss French.”

 

            “I hardly consider it such.” He quirked an eyebrow at my response before shifting his gaze to Bae. The boy had fallen sleep, his head resting against my knee.

 

            “I have never seen him so…” I looked up, waiting for him to continue his thought. Instead he merely shook his head, looking away. We fell in to silence for a few moments until he waved a hand in the direction of the stairs. “Go, Miss French. Put Bae to bed.”

 

            “Yes sir.” I moved my hand to Bae’s shoulder, nudging him awake. “Come along, Bae.”

 

            The boy woke, looking up at me blearily before remembering where he was. Quietly he stood, crossing the space to his father, hugging him and muttering goodnight. As he returned to my side and took my hand I turned back to Mr. Gold.

 

            “Good night, sir.” I nodded.

 

            “Good night, Miss French.” I could feel his eyes on me as I left the room. Once I saw Bae off to bed, the trek to my own room began. My mind was full of thoughts, none of them clear or easily understood. For a brief moment I remembered that I had left my portfolio with Mr. Gold, although I was in no position to pluck it from his lap, no matter the fact that it was my own.

 

            Not for the first time, I knew I would be going to sleep with thoughts of Mr. Gold racing across my mind. The only difference was that this time I would have a face to put to the name.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            It took some getting used to, having Mr. Gold present. It was his house, so I hardly had a say in the matter. But it always seemed that he was nearby, a watchful eye over me. It was distracting. One afternoon while Bae and I made use of the new play swords, I found myself consistently at the mercy of the young boy’s blade. Not because he was outwitting me, but because I could feel the gaze of Mr. Gold from across the lawn. He watched from a distance before coming over and insisting that he give Bae competition.

 

            “What shall we duel for, Bae?” Mr. Gold asked, brandishing his sword as an expert would.

 

            “Miss Belle’s affection, of course. As men do in all the great stories.” Was the boy’s response. I could feel my face burn.

 

            “Miss French, what sort of nonsense have you been filling my son’s head with?”

 

            “I’m afraid history and literature have you beat, sir.” I replied, resting against the low stone wall that fenced in the yard from the surrounding wilderness.

 

            “Yes, it does. Bae, we begin with a bow, this is a gentleman’s sport.”

 

            I smile, watching the two meet and bow before beginning their duel. This was something I had rarely seen before, a father and son, both wore the same cocky smile, an inherited trait. Their battle was fierce but in good fun, at least until the end when Mr. Gold tricked, catching him with a distraction and disarming the lad.

 

            “You cheated!” Bae exclaimed.

 

            “I did, sometimes you do that to win a duel and walk away unscathed, my boy.” Bae looked over at me with a sad expression and for a moment I wondered if he truly thought that he had lost my attentions. “Miss French, I believe the victor is usually rewarded with a token.”

 

            “That is true.” Bae looked between us as though he was about to cry. “However, it is important to learn that cheaters don’t always prosper.” With that I stooped down and pressed a quick kiss to Bae’s cheek. Now it was the boy who looked smug and Mr. Gold who looked downtrodden, although I couldn’t imagine why. It wasn’t as if he truly cared for my affections, it was all an attempt at teaching Bae a lesson.

 

I always suspected that I was imagining his attention, although night after night I was expected in the drawing room or the study with Mr. Gold and Bae. The latter would be questioned about what he learned that day, then the conversation was turned to me. Gold expected to be entertained and for some reason thought that I might be the one to supply it.

 

            One night Bae had disappeared early, lingering in the kitchen in the hopes of receiving a fresh piece of sweet cake from Mrs. Lucas. This left me alone with Mr. Gold, who had been rather standoffish with me since the sword fight.

 

            “You’re very quiet, Miss French.” He observed.

 

            “Yes, sir.”

 

            “Were you in library this afternoon?”

 

            “I was, sir.” I suddenly felt as though I would be sick, thoughts of my cousin bashing my head against the wall with the book of English birds flashed through my mind. “I beg your pardon, sir. I did not think to ask your permission first.”

 

            “Permission? The books are there to be read.” He chuckled at me, tonight he held a glass of red wine. “Speak with me, Belle. Entertain me.”

 

            “I do not know how you wish me to do that, sir.” I wondered if this was how other people felt when they encountered me. Was this the sort of behavior that prompted comments like ‘oh what a queer little thing you are.’

 

            “Ah! A smile, what are you thinking of, Miss French?” His voice startled me from my thoughts and I quickly forced my lips into a straight line.

 

            “I was just wondering if this is how people feel when they speak to me.”

 

            “How is that?”

 

            “Befuddled.” He laughed again. “You speak to me as though I were an equal, sir. Not many employers would do so.”

 

            “I am a strange man, we have shared oddities, Miss French.” He paused and stared at me and I met his eyes, not looking away. “Your gaze is very direct, Miss French. Tell me, do you think me handsome?”

 

            “No, sir.” I answered quickly.

 

            “Why do you not find me handsome? I have strong features, all of my limbs. If I were to tell you that I had 20,000 pounds? Would you be able to find some hints of attractive attributes then?” I couldn’t quite tell if he was being jovial or serious, but I took a moment before answering.

 

            “I did not mean that I find you repellent, sir. I only meant that… well I find that what defines a handsome man is who he is within, what sort of man he chooses to be. One cannot determine appeal based on the physical features.”

 

            “You are afraid of me.” He did not phrase it as a question.

 

            “I am not afraid, sir.”

 

            “A foolish error.” He paused, gazing at me again over the top of wine glass. “Do you rarely smile?”

 

            “I smile when I am amused, sir.”

 

            “You smile when Bae speaks of nonsense.”

 

            “Bae is a sweet boy.” I shrug, wishing that I had something to occupy my hands.

 

            “He is. I think he rather likes you, I suspect he’ll propose marriage any day now.” At that I smiled, barely containing my laughter. “Such a reaction, Miss French? That does not bode well for Bae.”

 

            “I suspect that it is a fleeting infatuation.”

 

            “Indeed. This wine has left me weary. Come Miss French.” He stood and gestured for me to follow suit. I did and we walked upstairs in silence. At Bae’s door I paused to look in, making sure that he was asleep in bed, the handle of his toy sword peaking out from beneath his pillow. Gold smiled at that, pulling the door closed again. We continued to walk, he passed his door and accompanied me to my own. It was then that I realized that Mrs. Lucas had placed me in the room next to Mr. Gold’s chambers. I suspected she did so because of the proximity to Bae’s room and because any where else in the house would be too far away.

 

            “Good night, Miss French.”

 

            “Good night, Mr. Gold.” I smiled for his benefit before closing my door. I hesitated for a moment before throwing the lock. It wasn’t Mr. Gold I feared, but something in the pit of my stomach made me think that it was a good idea.

 

            It was.

 

            I don’t know how long I had been asleep, but when I woke it was still dark out. A noise had woke me, I was trying to hard to remember what it was when I heard it again. Laughter. A woman was laughing, bare feet where hurrying along the floor that led to the turret. Carefully I pulled my door open, peaking out. When I saw no one I hurried towards Mr. Gold’s room, my feet carrying me before I realized where they were taking me.

 

            His door was left open, the smell of smoke hit me immediately.

 

            There I saw it, Mr. Gold fast asleep in a four poster bed, the curtains hanging from it were ablaze and the man was not stirring. 


	5. Ablaze

            “Mr. Gold! Mr. Gold, wake up!” I screamed, looking for something to put out the fire. He didn’t shift, I wondered if he had more than just the one glass of wine. “Mr. Gold!”

 

            I found a pitcher of water, which took care of some of the flames, but not enough. For a moment I paused, looking over his sleeping form, where was safe for a young woman to touch? Shoulder. A shoulder is acceptable. I gave him a solid shake, which finally seemed to rouse him.

 

            “Belle?” He questioned sleepily, the smoke leaving his mind in as much of a metaphoric haze as a literal one.

 

            “Mr. Gold, you need to wake up! The bed is on fire!”

 

            “Yes, I see that.” He jumped out of bed, reaching for a heavy blanket to pat out the fire. Once the flames were extinguished I found myself standing in a dark bedroom with Mr. Gold. I became painfully aware that I was wearing my nightdress and nothing else; I tried to calmly close the tie at my chest, keeping my gaze away from the man who stood before me. Quietly he moved to a nearby chair, pulling on a pair of trousers. My blush is hidden in the darkness; I had never been in a bedroom alone with a man before, let alone one wearing only a shirt.

 

            “What did you see Belle?” He asked moving close, his hands resting firmly on my shoulders. The only barrier between his hands and my nightgown are my loose curls, as habit my hair only came down at night, in the privacy of my own room.

 

            “Nothing. I didn’t see anything.” I answered, not sure what he was asking me.

 

            “How did you come to be in my room?”

 

            “I woke up and heard someone laughing, feet running along the hallway. I had a bad feeling, so when it looked clear…”

 

            “Yes, yes of course.” He relit the fire in the hearth, took the cloak from the back of the leather chair and draped it around my shoulders. “Wait here, I’ll return shortly.”

 

            Without another word he slammed the door shut, leaving me shivering in his chair, his cloak cocooning me in his sent. I wasn’t sure if it was the rush of discovering the fire or being so utterly surrounded by Mr. Gold, but I felt my heart continue to race and my head spin.

           

            Going to the window, I pulled at the latch until in released and pushed the pane open so some of the smoke could clear out. As I did this I noticed a moving flicker of light in the window that led to the top of the turret. Was that where Mr. Gold was headed? Who was hiding up there that would want to kill him? Marauders? Of course not, that would be silly, a result of reading too many books with Bae. With a sigh I pushed another window open and made my way back to the chair that I had been left in.

 

            Slowly I began to doze off, the excitement wearing away and leaving me with the memory that I had been in bed, fast asleep before all of this happened. Who in Thornfield would wish Mr. Gold dead? Certainly not Mrs. Lucas, not Bae… Bae! I suddenly remembered the boy and ran, making my way down the hall, refusing to stop until I arrived at the boy’s room. I carefully eased the door open only to find Bae still fast asleep.

 

            “Belle?” I slowly pulled the door closed before turning back to face Mr. Gold.

 

            “I had to make sure that Bae was safe.” He stared at me for a long, quiet moment. His expression difficult to read, but finally he nodded before taking my arm and leading me back to his room. I retook my seat and watched as he paced the floor.

 

            “Who did this, sir?”

 

            “That is of little consequence. Just be confident that it shan’t happen again.” His tone was very final. I nodded, shedding the cloak and moving for the door.

 

            “Is this how you intend to leave me, Belle? Fire is a horrible death, I owe you my life. Yet you would leave me without a word?” His request forces me to stop, turning back to him I struggle to look up at him.

 

            “What then, sir?”

 

            “A handshake?” His fingers were suddenly curled around my own. His hand is warm, not as soft as one would expect a gentleman to be. I felt my heart race as his grasp tightened. “I knew you would do me good in some way. I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you.”

 

            His face was close to mine, his eyes bewitching me. Their gaze had fallen to my lips and for the first time ever, I found myself wishing to be kissed. I had never been so close to a man in my life, not even under the watchful eyes of a chaperone. I wanted nothing more than to rise up on my toes and press my lips to his, wondering if they would feel softer than his fingers. His amber eyes observed me quietly, as they always did. But something was different this time, there was something darker lurking in the recesses. In that moment I knew: Mr. Gold wanted to kiss me too. This wasn’t proper, I knew it wasn’t. If I didn’t retreat soon I would make a fool of myself.

 

            “You wish to escape me?”

 

            “Please, sir. I am cold.” I offered, hoping that he would not take offense to my movements.

 

            “Well, we can agree then. You are never to be cold again, Miss French.” He took up the cloak I had abandoned and wrapped it around me again.

 

            “Good night, sir.”

 

            “Good night, Miss French.”

 

            Back in my room, I locked the door again before curling up on bed under his cloak. I stared at my hand for moments, wondering if I might see a trace of him lingering on my skin. Oh yes, this confirmed my suspicions… I was falling in love with Mr. Gold.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            I would be panicked by this turn of events if they weren’t so expected. When I first saw him that evening in the woods, even then I knew that he would have some sort of impact on my life. That he would leave me changed. For the better or for the worse was undetermined. None of this mattered of course, nothing could ever come of it. A governess and her master? It would never do.

 

            Bae and I quietly ate breakfast in the kitchen, while Mrs. Lucas kneaded dough for bread. Mr. Gold had yet to appear, but a night of fighting fire and whatever else he did, must have left him exhausted.

 

            “Should I take a tray up to Mr. Gold?” I asked as Bae took the last piece of toast and jam.

 

            “I’m sure he’s already eaten on the road.” Mrs. Lucas laughed.

 

            “What do you mean?” Her answer confused me, what road?

 

            “Mr. Gold left early this morning. He was quite out of sorts, knocked a candle over last night and nearly burned alive in bed. Anyway he left for Mills Manor, probably to visit with Regina Ingram, she has always been a favorite of his. Only a matter of time before he decides to settle down with her.”

 

            I felt a lump in my throat, of course there was a beautiful woman off in the countryside. Why wouldn’t there be. I cleared my throat as my thoughts drifted back to the occurrences of the night before.

 

            “Mrs. Lucas, does someone live in the turret near my room?” I asked, wondering if there would be cause to lock my door again.

 

            “Oh, that’s just Miss Poole, pay her no mind. She goes strolling the halls at night, more often when she’s gotten into the whiskey.”

 

            I nodded, turning my attentions back to Bae. With Mr. Gold gone again, without any promise or sight of return, Bae and I went back to our usual routine. Lessons, sword fighting, walks around the estate, life was as we knew it before the disruption. Bae had become fascinated with my drawing skills and took to challenging me, coming up with a new request for a sketch each day. The second day he requested a likeness of his father, something to keep with him. It was easy to sketch the features of the man I had become infatuated with, although I felt a sharp pain as my lead moved across the page.

 

            “Bae, whatever happened to your mother?” I asked one day as we walked back across the lawns. We had spent the afternoon discussing entomology, he enjoyed labeling drawings of insects and trying to catch a few for his own collection.

 

            “I don’t know really. Papa never mentions her, I was probably 4 years old when she left.”

 

            “She left?”

 

            “I woke up one morning and she was gone. Papa said she was never going to return and that as far as we were concerned it was just the two of us.” Bae smiled, “I liked it when it was just the two of us. But business… business has to come first.”

 

            “I’m sorry Bae.” Suddenly I felt guilty for dredging up the memories, for provoking the sad expression on the boy’s face. He quickly took my hand and looked up with a smile.

 

            “It’s all right, we have you now. You won’t leave me, will you Miss Belle.” It wasn’t a question.

 

            “Not if I don’t have to, sweet Bae.” He looked as though he wanted to question what would ever take me away, but let it pass. I knew, if Mr. Gold was to marry that would mean Bae being sent away to a boarding school and the governess turned out with only a reference and the salary owed her.

 

            “Don’t fret, Miss Belle, I won’t let anyone send you away. This is your home too.” I smiled, truly smiled at the boy, squeezing his hand.

 

            Mrs. Lucas was running towards us when we were only a few steps away from the kitchen door. She looked frazzled, out of breath and red faced.

 

            “Where have you two been?” She called. “I’ve just received word, the master’s returning and with guests.”

 

            “Guests?” Bae asked in excitement, it had been so long since he had been in a crowd.

 

            “Yes, I’m to see that _ALL_ of the rooms are prepared, food is being brought from the village and extra staff hired from the inn. That man, he loves to torture me like this. We haven’t had guests in this house in well over a decade.”

 

            As Bae scurried on ahead Mrs. Lucas took me by the arm and pulled me back, a conspiratorial expression emerging.

 

            “From the sounds of it he’s bringing Miss Ingram and her mother. I foresee a new mistress of the house.”

 

            “You don’t sound excited by the prospect.” I observed as we returned to the kitchen.

 

            “Dreadful woman, if she has her way I’m sure we’ll all be out on our backsides.”

 

            “They’re here! They’re here!” Bae ran into the room shouting before turning back for the main entrance. From the window Mrs. Lucas and I watched a row of carriages approach the front of the house. Mr. Gold expertly dismounted his horse, then hugged Bae before turning back to the closest carriage and holding his hand out to help the woman within.

 

            “That’s her. Regina Ingram.” Mrs. Lucas pointed out.

 

            Nothing would have prepared me for the creature that emerged. Her skin was flawlessly pale, lips painted blood red, shiny hair in perfect ringlets. Beautifully crafted clothes, made from the finest silks and laces, her leather gloves wrapped around slender digits. A pang of jealousy echoed through me as I thought of the dark woman’s perfect hand curled around Mr. Gold’s… the same hand that held my own.

 

            “Isn’t she a sight. Painted like the whore of Babylon.”

 

            “Mrs. Lucas!” I held back a laugh, surprised by the sudden outburst.

 

            “I’m not wrong though, am I? What sort of woman paints her lips that shade? And there’s her mother, oh those two are a pair. Witches.”

 

            Cora Ingram, a slightly aged version of her daughter with only one goal in her mind: marry Regina off to Gold so that their lifestyle of comfort will be confirmed. These were formidable women, in appearance alone. Without giving it a great deal of thought I started to compose something in my mind:

 

_Governess seeking employ, experienced with children of all ages. Not likely to fall in love with another master of the house, so have no concerns there._

 

            Oh yes, I could tell there was a wedding and a dismissal in my future. 


	6. Crowds and Conversations

            I have never enjoyed crowds. Parties were never a luxury I was witness to, which is probably why they left me on edge. Of course it didn’t occur to me that I would be required to participate in Mr. Gold’s gathering. We hadn’t seen each other since the morning return, frankly I didn’t expect him to speak with me when all the others were present. In fact the message came from Mrs. Lucas, who stopped me after dinner as I began to return to my room.

 

            “Where do you think you’re going?” She asked. Before I could open my mouth to answer she cut in, “Mr. Gold wants you to bring Bae to the parlor, he expects you to stay and if you don’t he said he would come get you himself.”

 

            Again I couldn’t reply, but this time it was because I had no words. Bae appeared at the end of the hallway and ran to take my hand, he too received a summons to the parlor. Together we walked to the door, once inside I let go of his hand and gave him a nudge towards his father while I found the seat closest to the door. These guests were all nobles, with titles and an inability to see a small, insignificant creature such as myself, especially with their noses so high in the air. Which, incidentally, was no skin off my nose, I had no concern for them either. That was the second lesson at Westland, keep to your own. A rule I could abide in every situation… except for Mr. Gold.

 

            “Who is this child?” Cora demanded as Bae entered into a conversation with Mr. Gold’s good friend Mr. Jefferson. The man was strange, fascinated with science and the occult, and always seen with his top hat in hand. Jefferson was the only member of the party to treat me as though I was not a shadow against the wall.

 

            “My son Bae, Lady Cora.” Gold offered from his place near the fire, he leaned against the mantel.

 

            “You don’t have him in school?” Regina questioned, looking up at Gold from the seat closest to him.

 

            “Schools are expensive.” He shrugged.

 

            “Oh, but a governess? Is that her? Lurking near the doorway?”

 

            “What are you speaking of?” Cora interrupted.

 

            “Heavens, don’t let her start on governesses, we shall all be held captive until the wee hours of morning.” Regina laughed.

 

            “We are discussing governesses.” Gold informed the older woman, in a tone loud enough that I looked up. He quickly glanced away, refusing to meet my eye.

 

            “I have no use for governesses. Thank goodness my children no longer require them. They cost just as much as school. You must pay a salary, room and board. And they all have something more sinister lurking in the back of their simple minds. Always sneaking around with a tutor or making eyes at the master.”

 

            I looked away from the crowd, I could feel their eyes on me burning with distrust or pity. There was no reason to expect someone to speak up, I was hired help, and no one was required to defend me. Just as they lost interest in me and I found my chance to sneak out of the room I heard sweet Bae speak up. I was hidden behind a screen near the door.

 

            “Miss Belle is the best teacher I’ve ever had. Better than I would have in any school.”

 

            “You learn a lot from her?” Jefferson asked.

 

            “I do. History, French, Latin, mathematics, science, literature. She says that I’ll be intelligent enough to do anything I might like when I am grown.” He proclaimed happily. With a smile I continued out of the room, keen to escape to my bed. I could feel the tears beginning their journey down my cheeks. I was moved by Bae’s words but that didn’t erase the hurtful jabs from Mr. Gold’s guests.

 

            “How do you do, Belle?” His voice hit me as a ton of bricks would.

 

            “I am well sir.” Though my voice betrayed me, shaking as I hastily wiped tears away and turned to face him.

 

            “You did not wish to speak with me tonight?” He questioned, moving down the hall to meet me. “We have not seen each other in some time.”

 

            “You seemed engaged with your guests, sir.”

 

            “Have you been well?”

 

            “I have, sir. Mostly seeing to Bae.”

 

            “You look paler than usual.” He stare at me longer, “And rather depressed… Belle are you crying?”

 

            “No sir. I am not depressed, I am not crying. I’m simply tired.”

 

            “If I say you’re depressed, you’re depressed.”

 

            “Yes, sir.”

 

            “You are excused tonight, but I expect you and Bae in the parlor every night after diner.” I nodded and started back towards the stairs.

 

            “Belle.” I stopped again, not sure just how long I would be able to hold my tears at bay. “It’s good to see you.”

 

            “And you, sir.” I whispered.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            The next afternoon I found myself sitting in the drawing room, Bae’s lessons for the day were finished. He sat with Jefferson, proudly displaying his entomology sketches. Regina, Cora and a few other guests had taken to discussing what constitutes good and bad children. Unlike the parlor, I had no secluded chair, instead I was seated on the other side of Bae, in the thick of things. Mr. Gold lingered nearby, staring out the window, trying hard to make it appear as though he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation.

 

            “You shan’t sway me on this, Mr. Jefferson, a child with bad blood deserves the punishment and indignations that follow.” Cora rambled on. I had spent the past fifteen minutes biting the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out. A woman who had no idea what constituted a beating prattling on as though she were an expert on the topic.

 

            “And what do you deem ‘bad blood,’ Lady Cora? There is no scientific method to quantify which blood is bad and which is good.” Jefferson countered.

 

            “The amount of beatings they’ve earned should be an indicator.” She chuckled, studiously ignoring me.

 

            “What do you think, Miss Belle?” He asked, turning to me. Bae looked up with expectant eyes, curious to hear my response. It seemed as though the entire room had gone silent waiting for what I had to say.

 

            “You… you don’t want my opinion.” I stammered, wanting nothing more than to be ignored again.

 

            “Of course I do. You certainly have the most experience with children, tell me, have you ever seen fit to beat a student?” Jefferson questioned.

 

            “Absolutely not.” I replied without thinking.

 

            “You don’t believe they deserve it?” Regina questioned.

 

            “Children should be loved, cherished. Anyone who has suffered from constant beatings would know that they breed nothing but contempt and distrust. The feelings of a child should not be discounted.”

 

            “I doubt children have as much feeling as that dog there.” Cora laughed, gesturing to where Pilot lay on the carpet.

 

            “I would no sooner beat an animal either.”

 

            “You’re very hesitant to speak on this subject, Miss French.” Jefferson observed.

 

            “I imagine that anyone with true experience on the matter would be. It is not a hypothetical conversation to be lightly debated for the sake of passing time.” I had never had so much trouble keeping my mouth shut before. Suddenly I found myself standing, “Excuse me.”

 

            “Running again, Belle?” Once more Mr. Gold had followed me out of the room.

 

            “I did not think it wise to remain in that room when the target of conversation was meant as an agitation.” I answered confidently.

 

            “You were very outspoken.” He sounded pleased more than annoyed.

 

            “I beg your pardon, sir. I let my mind runaway with my mouth.”

 

            “I enjoyed it.” He smiled, leaning against the wall. “I enjoy any glimpse I can get of your thoughts. Tell me, Belle, do you think me in love with Miss Ingram?”

 

            “I know nothing of love, sir.” It felt as though my heart had risen to my throat. “But if your concern is good blood, as it is her mother’s, then I’m sure you will be pleased with your choice of wife.” I could feel the heat on my cheeks. This time it was not tears, but anger.

 

            “I quite enjoy you like this, Belle. Riled up, speaking without careful thought.”

 

            “Mr. Gold, sir!” Mrs. Lucas suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor. “Mr. Gold, there’s a gentleman here to see you. Says his name is Killian Jones.”

 

            It was then I saw him freeze, the effect he had had on me so many times prior.

 

            “See him to my study, Mrs. Lucas.”

 

            He took a deep breath, lost in thought before turning back to face me.

 

            “I wish I were on a desert island somewhere… with only you and Bae for company. Tell me, if all those people in the drawing room cast me out, spat on me, disavowed me, tell me what you would do? Would you join them?” He looked distraught, it was a disturbing sight at first. I had never seen this man look anything less than imposing.

 

            “I would try and help you sir.” I answered honestly, not looking away from his direct gaze. “In any way I could.”

 

            “If I asked you to do something that was wrong?” I paused, my desire to be good and my desire to please him combating each other. “No, no of course not. I know you would not. Stay near, Belle. I fear there may be another fire tonight.” 


	7. Nightmares

            I had a bad feeling when I saw Killian Jones for the first time. Truth be told I had the same foreboding feeling every time I saw him after. Something about him left Mr. Gold on edge and that in turn made me wary of the gentleman. He didn’t mix with the rest of the guests, simply meeting with Mr. Gold in his office before reappearing some time later. Mr. Jones asked if he might take dinner in the kitchen, out of the way so that he wasn’t imposing on the party. Gold simply nodded and asked me to show him the way. Reluctantly I agreed, cautious of the dark haired man following me down the narrow stone staircase to the kitchen.

 

            I took my leave as quickly as possible without seeming rude. My dinner would be had later, after the room emptied and I could sup alone. After dinner I joined the party, as Mr. Gold had commanded. Again I found myself sitting off to the side, observing the room from a safe distance. After the tone of conversation that afternoon, I was happy to be left alone, save for Bae who would occasionally appear at my side for one reason or another. Until he finally asked if he may go to bed. A request I was relieved to hear.

 

            Mr. Gold had been quieter than usual after Mr. Jones’ arrival. He wore a look of deep concern and kept to staring out the window. Although, as Bae bid good night the brooding gentleman looked up, observing his son before his gaze moved to me. It was then I saw that my assessments were incorrect, his expression was haunted, there was something hurting him and all I wanted was to find a way to ease his suffering.

 

            Bae took my hand and we happily escaped the stuffy room.

 

            “Miss Belle, can I ask you a question?”

 

            “Can you?”

 

            “May I?”

 

            “Yes, Bae.”

 

            “Is papa going to marry Miss Ingram?” He questioned, staring up at me with a concerned expression.

 

            “I don’t know.” I answered honestly. “Would you like him to marry?”

 

            “Not her. She’s dreadful, I asked her earlier if she liked sword fighting and she told me that it was activity unbecoming of a lady. But you sword fight with me.”

 

            “Yes, but I’m not a lady.”

 

            “Of course you are.”

 

            “I’m really not, Bae. I’m just a governess.”

 

            “You’re more than that to me, Miss Belle.” Suddenly he threw his arms around my waist, hugging me close. I hesitated for a moment before my arms wrapped around him. “You’re what a mother should be. I wish papa would marry you.”

 

            With that he hurried off to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. The boy’s notions were a tribute to just how sheltered his life at Thorn Field had been. That he could so easily accept the notion of a governess marrying the master of the house. Although, I couldn’t deny, the idea made me smile. For a moment I indulged in the fantasy as I walked to my room. Bae calling me mama, Mr. Gold taking my hand and leading me away from a book by the fire so that we could go to bed… our bed. I shook my head, trying to force the images from my head. It wasn’t right, I shouldn’t be thinking of such things.

 

            Sleep came quickly that night, though it was interrupted with the same haste when a horrific scream echoed through the manor halls. With sleep still in my eyes, I groped around the edge of the bed for my robe, before carefully venturing into the hallway. All members of the party were also in their nightclothes, all looking confused at the disturbance. Mr. Gold finally emerged from the door that led to the turret, wearing his trousers and a white linen shirt, which looked thoroughly rumpled.

 

            “My apologies everyone…”

 

            “What on earth was that, Mr. Gold?” Cora demanded.

 

            “A servant had a nightmare, that is all. Please, everyone go back to bed.”

 

            “Really! All this fuss over a servant.” Regina grumbled, looking directly at me. For a moment I felt a surge of superiority, returning Regina’s assessing glare. Her hair was tightly, possibly painfully, wound with cloth. Those curls were as forced as the sweet tone she adopted when speaking to Mr. Gold. My own curls were free, tumbling down my back, genuine in hair and attitude. I quickly pushed the thoughts from my mind when I noticed the small puddle of blood gathering at Mr. Gold’s heels, dripping from his hand.

 

            “Yes, well. Everyone, please, return to bed.”

 

            The crowd slowly dispersed, but Gold remained where he was. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should stay behind or return to my room. I had just closed my door when a knock echoed. I froze.

 

            “Belle! Belle!” He whispered.

 

            “Mr. Gold?” I pulled the door open. He had a handkerchief wrapped around his bleeding hand. “What happened?”

 

            “It’s of no concern, I need your help, Belle.”

 

            “Of course.” I followed him down the hall towards the door that led to the tower stairs. “Sir?”

 

            “Do you faint at the sight of blood, Belle?”

 

            “I don’t know… I shouldn’t think so.”

 

            “Come.”

 

            Again I followed him; we passed the door and continued to a small room just outside the tower’s entrance. On the lone chair in the room sat Mr. Jones, bleeding heavily from a wound at his neck.

 

            “Belle, I need you to apply pressure to the wound. I’ll fetch Jefferson, he’ll take…” Gold paused for a moment, glaring at the injured man, “Mr. Jones to the nearest doctor.”

 

            I just nodded and kneeled beside the man, finding a clean cloth and doing as instructed. Gold started for the door before doubling back, he leaned in close, whispering to Jones:

 

            “Speak a word to her, a single syllable and I will run you through.” With that he disappeared, leaving us alone.

 

            Time passed slowly. As soon as I felt his blood graze my fingertips I swapped out a new cloth, hoping to keep some of his life essence from escaping. While the blood didn’t leave me faint, but I did find it unsettling. My fingers were stained red, even when I wiped the sticky substance away the color remained. His breathing was shallow, eyes occasionally fluttering open and focusing on me.

 

            “I can see why…” he muttered, his eyes closing again.

 

            “Come away from there, Belle.” Jefferson’s voice cut through the silence of the room. He and Gold came close, working to pull Mr. Jones from the chair. I followed them all the way down to the entranceway, outside where a carriage was waiting. Jefferson climbed in first, pulling Jones in after him. Mr. Gold and I stood outside as they pulled away. Left alone in the silence of the early morning, the sun was just beginning to come up, the inky black of night fading away.

 

            “Fresh air.” He said simply, putting a hand at my back and leading me toward the gardens, seemingly ignorant of the fact that we both wore only nightclothes. “We’ve passed a strange night, Belle.”

 

            “Sir, who did that to Mr. Jones?”

 

            “Jones did it to himself.” He muttered.

 

            “Sir?”

 

            “I told him to wait.” He paused, looking down the rolling hill Bae and I had played on numerous times before. “Were you frightened, Belle?”

 

            “Yes, Sir.” I answered honestly, “I haven’t felt such fear since I was a child.”

 

            “When have you known such fear before?”

 

            “As a girl, my cousin beat me, gashed my head… my aunt saw fit to punish me for provoking such an attack and locked me in the cellar.” His fingers came to rest under my chin before tilting my head to one side then the other.

 

            “Where was this gash?” He questioned, it wasn’t a demanding tone, more curious. I had only ever shown the scar to Helen. The skin that healed was marred, a horrible shade of white, fortunately hidden by my hair unless one took a closer look, as Mr. Gold intended to now. I brushed my hair to the side so he could see the result of my cousin’s brutal attack. The event that led to my being sent to school, which led me to Mr. Gold…

 

            “Scars are interesting things.” He whispered, his fingers brushing across the uneven line of skin. I almost shuddered at the touch, is was more intimate than any moment I had ever known. “Why do you shiver, Belle?”

 

            “No one has ever… touched me there before. I only ever showed the scar to one other. It’s an ugly mark to bear.”

 

            “We all have scars, they make us human.” I moved my head so that I was looking up at him again. With a sigh he pushed my hair behind my ear, tracing a few strands down to the ends where they curled. “At last, proof that you are at least part human, my dear little sprite.”

 

            We walked a while further until the sun shone brightly.

 

            “Tell me, Miss Belle, do you think a man should allow propriety to stand in the way of marriage?” His question caught me off guard. My thoughts suddenly went to Regina Ingram, with her noble blood and fine silk dresses.

 

            “I believe that if you are in love and all is done for the right reasons, then nothing should stand in the way of a marriage.” I answered honestly. “I don’t see why you should be worried about propriety, you and Miss Ingram are of the same social standings.”

 

            “Miss Ingram?”

 

            “Sir, the house is currently full of gossip.”

 

            “Ah yes, leave it to me to invite those with their tongues hinged in the middle.”

 

            “Sir, if you will excuse me, I am rather tired and Bae’s lessons must start in a few hours.”

 

            “Of course. Thank you, Belle.”

 

            “You know I would do anything you asked of me, sir.” I said quickly, without hesitation.

 

            I still don’t understand the power Mr. Gold has over me. Anywhere he touched me, no matter how innocent, seemed to tingle for hours after. I returned to my room and began to change for the day, braid my hair, pausing to press my fingers against the hidden scar. As I went for my shoes I noticed something… a letter sticking out of a book left on the floor near my bed.

 

            “Bae…” I muttered to myself as I pulled out the paper, he had a habit of tucking my papers and letters away when I wasn’t looking. My heart dropped as I read the address. By the time I finished the letter it felt as though I would be ill.

 

            Mr. Gold was in his study when I finally found him, the letter still in my hand.

 

            “Yes, Miss Belle?”

 

            The words burned as they left my throat:

 

            “Sir, I need to take a leave of absence for a week or two.” 


	8. The First Break

            “Leave of absence?” He asked, eyes wide in surprise.

 

            “My aunt is on her death bed and has requested my presence.” I explained briefly, the words sounded foreign as I spoke them.

 

            “The aunt who cast you out?” He quirked an eyebrow and looked thoroughly displeased at the notion.

 

            “Yes, sir.”

 

            “Why should you cater to her whims? After how she treated you?” He demanded.

 

            “My cousin Humbert, her son is dead. He squandered his fortune before taking his own life…” I paused, wondering why I felt so affected by my cousin’s death. He had done nothing but terrorize me, I knew no kindness from him or my aunt and yet I felt compelled to do what had been asked of me. “I cannot refuse the request of a dying woman.”

 

            “You’re a better woman than most.”

 

            “If she had not cast me out I would not have found my way here, sir.”

 

            “Well, when you put it like that... But promise me, promise you won’t be gone longer than a week.”

 

            “I cannot promise that! She is dying.”

 

            “Very well.” He sounded like Bae when I forced him to come inside for lessons. “I suppose you’ll require money.”

 

            “I have yet to receive my salary.” He nodded and went to his desk drawer.

 

            “Here.” He handed me bills. Glancing down I realized:

 

            “Sir! This is too much, this is fifty pounds! You only owe me fifteen!”

 

            “The only other bill I have is for ten.” He shrugged.

 

            “Then I shall take that and you will owe me five.” He grinned at that, reaching out to exchange the bills.

 

            “I’ll consider that my insurance, trusting that five pounds will ensure your return.”

 

            “Of course I’ll return, where ever you and Bae are is my home…” I stopped, those words should not have come out of my mouth. They were all right to think quietly as I lay in bed at night, but not to be spoken aloud to Mr. Gold himself.

 

            “I do so agree, Miss Belle.” His smile caught me off guard. “Shall we part with a hand shake?”

 

            I nodded and held my hand out to him. With a small smile, his warm fingers wrapped around my cold digits.

 

            “Really Belle, does your body ever know warmth?” He asked with a smirk.

 

            “It has its moments, sir.” Was my tart reply, he seemed amused and pulled both of my hands towards him.

 

            “Always such warmth from a chilled vessel.”

 

            I had no words, instead staring up at him until he finally released me.

 

            “A safe journey, Belle.”

 

            “Yes, sir.” I nodded again, glancing back at him once more from the door.

 

            “Two weeks?”

 

            I just smiled and returned to pack my bag.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Two weeks turned out to be a month. Aunt Malvina held on for four weeks. When I arrived she had been confined to her bed, pale and worn down. Not the vibrant woman I remembered. Of course one always recalls the villain of the piece as a colorful and lively, otherwise you cannot account for the misfortune they thrust upon you. If your villain were plain there would be no accounting for their role in your life. At least that’s what I had told myself.

 

            The blonde woman who once wore nothing but the finest silk and velvet now lay before me in her nightclothes. Her hair was soaked with sweat and matted down to her forehead.

 

            “I did not do right by you, Belle.” She whispered pitifully. “I did not do what my husband asked of me.”

 

            I had no idea what to say. What is the appropriate response to an apology ten years too late? I just nodded and patted her hand with as much compassion as I could manage.

 

            “There is an uncle, he inquired after you years earlier, but I told him you had died.” She confessed, weakly lifting her hand to point to a small box on her dresser. “The letter is there. Contact him, let him know you are alive, collect what is yours.”

 

            With that she fell asleep, leaving me to discover the letter alone. The paper was yellowed with age, the date informing me that he had attempted contact almost five years prior. An uncle…

 

            As I left my aunt’s home for the last time I felt free. It was not like before, when I was forcibly taken. Instead I was leaving of my own free will, returning to Thorn Field, to Mr. Gold and Bae.

 

            The month away had been intolerable. The house was so quiet, save for the cousins fighting over their prospects of marriage or trinkets of their mother’s that they suspected the other of taking. I took only one thing from the house, tucked away in the library I unearthed a tattered copy of English Ornithology, still stained with my blood. Tucked away in my bag, I took my leave of the house one final time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            The journey back to Thorn Field was filled with anticipation. I had foolishly convinced myself that I had a handle on my attachment to Bae. But I had failed to follow all warnings of becoming too involved. I missed the sweet boy, I missed our lessons and our sword fights. Mostly I missed his hugs. If this was what being a mother was like I could happily welcome children.

 

            I also missed Mr. Gold more than I had expected to. Though our time together had always been brief, I couldn’t help but long for those long stares he always seemed to cast in my direction. The hint of a smile that so often seemed reserved for me alone. As the carriage moved closer towards Thorn Field I could think of nothing but what his arms wrapped around me might feel like. Would he be so pleased to see me that he might hug me?

 

            The carriage had other passengers, all of which were paying a higher fair, which left me at the winding pathway through the woods that would lead me home. I did not mind the walk, it gave me time to take in the familiar surroundings. The snow had mostly melted and the air felt warm again.

 

            It wasn’t until I was a few steps from the garden that I heard him.

 

            “MISS BELLE!” Bae yelled in excitement, running to meet me and knocking me to the ground with the force of his hug. “I’ve missed you!”

 

            “I missed you too, Bae.” I smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

 

            “We both missed you,” he whispered as he helped me back to my feet. “Papa has been in an awful mood since you left.”

 

            “I’m sure that has nothing to do with my absence, Bae. Has the party gone home yet?” I asked as we walked towards the house.

 

            “The last of them are leaving today, thank heavens.”

 

            “Bae!”

 

            “Miss Ingram and her mother are finally going. Miss Belle, is it terribly unkind for me to tell you that I don’t like them?”

 

            “No, dear boy.” I answered without thinking. “Just don’t tell anyone else. I don’t care much for them either.”

 

            “Mrs. Lucas keeps saying that papa is going to marry Miss Ingram. He can’t, he just can’t.”

 

            “Your father may do as he pleases, marry whom he pleases.”

 

            “Miss French, returned at last.” Came a mocking tone from across the entrance of the house. There lurked Miss Ingram, waiting as her case was loaded into the carriage, her mother overseeing each detail for their journey. “A nice holiday?”

 

            “It wasn’t a holiday, ma’am. My aunt passed away.” I answered briefly, hoping that she might display some hint of decency and let the subject drop. Bae stayed close by my side, his hands wrapped around my own. I noticed her eye his affection with distaste, I suppose Miss Ingram was the kind of woman who only had children for heirs and nothing more.

 

            “Well, nice of you to return to your duties… while you still have them.” She smirked.

 

            “A safe journey to you, Miss Ingram.” I forced a smile before continuing inside. Mrs. Lucas was the next to greet me, surprising me with a smile and a hug.

 

            “I’ve been so lonely without you, Belle. So good to have you back.”

 

            “Miss Belle. Returned at last.” I turned from Mrs. Lucas and felt my heart stop beating for a moment. Our eyes met and I knew at that moment, I was in love with Mr. Gold and he was intended for another. It wouldn’t be long until my heart was broken. Until then I clutched Bae’s hand and finally turned my head to break our shared gaze. One break at a time. 


	9. A Long Way Off

            “You’re certain the water isn’t too cold?” I asked again, knowing that he was tired of my questioning but it was only March, there was still a slight chill in the air.

 

            “I’m fine, Miss Belle!” Bae replied, not looking up from the frog he was trying to catch. He had shed his shoes and socks, rolling up the cuffs of his pants to wade into the stream. I had brought along my sketchbook to occupy my mind while he played. The two months had passed since my return and the tension was growing with each passing day.

 

            Every time I found myself in a room with Mr. Gold there felt as though a thick fog appeared between us. My skin was instantly warm, flushed as my heart raced. In all of these moments I could think of nothing but what my life would be after I was forced to leave. Perhaps another job as a governess. A position where I would heed the warnings not to grow attached to the family.

 

            “Beautiful.” His voice startled me. I didn’t hear him approach, had been unaware that he was standing behind me. Now crouching down to look over my shoulder.

 

            “Sir?”

 

            “The sketch. I’d like to keep it when you’ve finished.” I looked down at the image I had started: the high walls of Thornfield in the distance, the rolling hill, the calm stream, Bae carefully easing into the water.

 

            “Of course, sir.” I answered, suddenly pleased that he wanted it. That after I was gone some small part of me would linger on in halls of Thornfield.

 

            “Bae!” Mr. Gold called to the boy, who stopped at his father’s voice. “Mrs. Lucas has just taken a cake out of the oven.”

 

            The boy grinned, dropping the frog in his hands, taking hold of his shoes and running towards the house. We both laughed at the boy’s excitement before lapsing back into stillness.

 

            “I’ve been thinking of Scotland.” He said suddenly, breaking the silence between us. I paused for a moment, my lead hovering above the page.

 

            “It’s a long way off, sir.” I managed, forcing my hand to steady and resume the sketch of the manor.

 

            “From what, Belle?”

 

            “From England and from Thornfield: and…”

 

            “Yes?” His question hung in the air, I could feel his eyes on me.

 

            “From you, sir. And Bae.” I answered quietly, my hand frozen again.

 

            “You once told me that you would do anything I asked of you… would you wish me well in marriage?”

 

            “If that was what you truly wanted.” I suddenly found myself standing up, my sketch left on the ground, the piece of lead forgotten. This was it, the final break of my heart. “I wish you nothing but happiness with Miss Ingram. I shall advertise for a new position as soon as possible.” I said with as much conviction as possible. Inside it felt as though my heart was shattering. Miss Ingram would be sure to send me away, if I could remove the discomfort of him asking me to leave then I would do so.

 

            “Leave? Why on earth would you do such a thing, Belle?” He demanded, taking my arm to keep me from passing. I wanted nothing more than to lean into him, to rest my head on his shoulder, to curl my fingers through his hair and around his neck.

 

            “You are to be married, sir. Your intended has made her feelings on governesses and children quite clear. With Bae away at school there would be no reason for me to stay on. I will not allow anyone to take control of my life. I am no bird to be ensnared in a net or cage. I am a free human being with an independent will. No one decides my fate but me and if that means leaving Thornfield then that is what I shall do.”

 

            “You would leave me with such ease?” He questioned, slowly moving back towards the large oak tree. Something in me broke, it was not my heart but rather my anger.

 

            “Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you?” I demanded, tears beginning their journey down my cheeks. “Do you think that because I am poor, obscure… plain and little that I am soulless and heartless? That if God had blessed me with some beauty or wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you.”

 

            My chest heaved as the words flew from my mouth. My eyes stinging from crying. I had never anticipated showing so much of myself to this man. Although I always felt as though he could see all of me. That whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

 

            “Then don’t.” He said simply, pulling me to his chest and pressing his lips to mine. With every ounce of strength I had left in me, I pushed him away.

 

            “You shall decide your destiny, Belle. I offer you my hand, my heart, you’ve already won over my son, I have no doubt that he would try to leave with you should you decide to go. I ask you to pass through life at my side, as my wife.”

 

            I stared at him blankly, failing to comprehend his words.

 

            “But… you’re engaged to Miss Ingram.”

 

            “How could I be engaged to a woman I feel nothing for?”

 

            “You certainly haven’t done anything to prove the contrary.”

 

            “Do you doubt me, Belle?”

 

            “Entirely.”

 

            “You have no faith in me?”

 

            “Not a whit.”

 

            “I am a liar in your eyes? I shall convince you. I have no love for Miss Ingram. Which is the same amount she has for me. I had Jefferson inform her in passing that my fortune was nowhere near what she believed it to be. After that her communications stopped, I received nothing but coldness from her. You, my little sprite, you I loved as my own flesh. You are the one I wish to marry.”

 

            “I don’t understand you, sir.”

 

            “Be mine. Entirely mine, Belle. Say you’ll marry me.” He had the eyes of a possessed man.

 

            “Are you in earnest? You sincerely wish me to be your wife?”

 

            “I do. I swear I do, Belle. Say you will marry me. Say, Cameron, call me by my Christian name. Say, Cameron, I will marry you.”

 

            “You truly love me?” I asked quietly.

 

            “You torture me so, Belle.” His name sounded like a whimper, almost in pain as he clutched me tightly against his body, refusing to let me turn away.

 

            “Then, sir, I will marry you.”

 

            “Cameron, my little wife.”

 

            “Cameron.” His name sounded delicious falling from my lips, which were instantly covered with his. When we parted he pulled my head to his shoulder, hugging me close.

 

            “God forgive me. She is mine, no man may meddle with me.” He whispered to the skies.

 

            “There is no one to meddle, I have no kin.” I reassured him, my own arms tightening around his middle. He just nodded.

 

            We stood there for what felt like hours, but in reality for minutes until the wind picked up, blowing the leaves around us. My sketch was caught in the gust and landed in the stream.

 

            “We must go in.” He said suddenly, taking my hand and pulling me towards Thornfield. Just as we made it across the footbridge the skies opened, soaking us in rain. A crack of thunder echoed behind us, striking the oak tree against which we had been leaning. Were I more superstitious I would have seen it as a sign of danger to come. But there was no time for that now. Mr. Gold… Cameron loved me and I was to be his wife. 


	10. Belle Betrothed

            The rain was heavy, we were soaked by the time we reached the door, but Mr. Gold… Cameron did not seem to mind. As we stood in the doorway he pulled me close, kissing me properly.

 

            “Your clothes are soaked through.” He murmured, pressing another kiss to my lips as his hands traveled the length of my arms in an attempt to warm me.

           

            “It does not matter, I feel nothing but you, sir.”

 

            “Cameron.” He reminded me again. It would take some time before I fully remembered that Sir was no long required.

 

            “Cameron. I feel nothing but you, Cameron.” He groaned softly, finally forcing our bodies apart.

 

            “Go change, dear. We’ll have dinner and tell Bae the good news.” I just nod, allowing myself to be pulled into one more kiss before hurrying up the stairs.

           

            As I reached the landing of the second floor I froze, startled to find Mrs. Lucas standing there. She too seemed taken back, having witnessed the exchange between Mr. Gold… Cameron and myself.

 

            “What was that?” She questioned, following me to my bedroom. I disappeared behind the screen to change while she seated herself at my desk. “Did he make untoward advances?”

 

            “No! Of course not… we are to be married. He asked that I become his wife.”

 

            “But what of Miss Ingram?”

 

            “He does not love her! He loves me!” As the words left my mouth I could feel my lips curl into a smile. It was the first I had said the fact aloud. He did not love the woman with perfect curls and “good blood,” he loved plain Belle French.

 

            “I don’t believe it.” I peaked over the screen to see her face, set in stoic denial.

 

            “You do not believe that I am capable of being loved by someone? I’m such an unfortunate creature, no one could love me.”

 

            “Of course not, Belle. You are so little acquainted with men. I worry you are entering into this blindly, that you have been overwhelmed by the charm. Perhaps it would be best to keep him at a distance. Wait for this foolish notion to pass.” The woman asked the impossible. To keep away from Mr. Gold would require a Herculean strength. She had never received a kiss from Cameron Gold, never felt his fingers trace along her cheek and neck. Keep away?

 

            “This is not a foolish notion. It is an engagement.”

 

            “Be careful.” She sighed, leaving me alone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            “Married!” Bae exclaimed, rushing from his seat to throw his arms around me. “You will be my mother?”

 

            I hesitated, not wanting to presume that I would be taking the place of his mother, although I loved the boy as my own.

 

            “Yes she will.” Cameron answered with a smile. My expression matched his own as Bae continued to hug me.

 

            “I will call you mama?”

 

            “If you’d like.” The child’s enthusiasm was contagious.

 

            “Thank goodness Papa came to his senses.” Bae grinned returning to his place. I struggled to hide my smile while Cameron just reached for my hand.

 

            “Thank goodness indeed.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            “Overwhelmed? Sweet Belle, am I overwhelming you now?” He chuckled.

 

            “You have a strong presence, Cameron.”

 

“Belle…” he seemed to desire nothing more than to say my name as his fingers brushed across my cheek, tracing down my throat. “Such a name.”

 

            After finishing dinner Bae was put to bed and Cameron and I took to the sofa in his library. He sat closer than I had ever dared to imagine he would, pulling my shoes off and shifting my feet into his lap. It was cozy, domestic, and the warmest my toes had ever felt. It was the happiest I had ever felt.

 

            “The irony does not escape me, sir.”

 

            “Cameron.” He corrected.

 

            “The irony does not escape me, Cameron, that I am named for a beauty which I do not possess.”

 

            “Whom, may I ask, would dare deny your beauty?”

 

            “If you think I possess any then you are a blind man.” I scolded him, looking down. Then I heard his voice drop lower than I had ever known before.

 

            “I’m nothing of the sort.” His fingers found their way under my chin, coaxing me to meet his gaze. “I know nothing more beautiful than when your hair is free of that damn braid. I think of nothing but twisting those curls around my fingers. Your skin has a glow that beckons me like a moth to a flame. Your eyes are a shade I’ve not seen in nature. And your lips… my dearest, it’s all I can do not to press mine to yours and pass the afternoon in such a way.”

 

            I could feel the blush on my cheeks, burning with his words.

 

            “Shall I continue? I have given a great deal of thought to your many attributes. In truth I’ve thought of little else over the past year since you came into our lives.”

 

            “No, no. That is more than enough for me… thank you, Cameron.” I smiled, moving his fingers from my chin to my neck as I leaned forward to kiss him. The brush of his lips to mine had to contain some kind of magic. Some power that I never thought possible.

 

            “Well then, my Belle, when shall we marry? Next week?”

 

            “Next week? That is hardly enough time for everything to be put into order. Two months? A suitable period to be betrothed.”

 

            “Two months is far too long. How about a compromise? We shall marry in one month, then retreat to the Mediterranean. I have a lovely little whitewashed villa there. We shall remain secluded there as I thoroughly overwhelm you, my love.”

 

            “And what of Bae?” I questioned, realizing that if we were to leave for an extended period the boy would be left alone in the grand manor with only Mrs. Lucas as company.

 

            “You wish to bring the boy?” He seemed almost surprised by the notion.

 

            “Well we are to be a family.”

 

            “Yes, we are.” He smiled, pressing a very sweet kiss to my lips.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            The month passed in a whirl of activity. Cameron insisted on taking Bae and myself into town, where he had new dresses commissioned for me as well as my wedding gown. He tried to purchase a gaudy diamond necklace for our wedding day, but Bae insisted that he knew best and later presented me with a simple string of pearls.  

 

            It was as though no time had passed before I found myself dressing for our service at the church. Mrs. Lucas assisted with my corset, but I saw to the rest on my own. While I pulled my hair up so that it might fit beneath my bonnet, I allowed a few loose curls to appease Cameron’s fondness for them. With everything in place, I fastened the string of pearls around my neck, enjoying the feeling of the cool smoothness against my skin.

 

            There was an eerie calm that had fallen over Thornfield. The buzz of excitement that one might suspect to fill the air before a wedding was somewhat diminished by a foreboding I could not explain at the time. Of course I considered myself to be foolish, pushing the feelings aside as I met Cameron at the top of the stairs.

 

            “You are the most beautiful bride.” He said with a grin that was somewhat forced.

 

            “What is it? Is it too plain?” I questioned at his expression. While in town he had pushed for the finer materials and extravagant designs, but I had insisted on the simple styles I was more accustomed to.

 

            “No, of course not, dear. Nerves I suppose.” He smiled slightly more sincerely as he took my hand. “Come, let us be married and merry.”

 

            “You find yourself terribly clever today.” I laughed, allowing him to lead me downstairs and out to the waiting carriage.

 

            “What do you mean?” His nerves truly were shaking him.

 

            “I was just teasing. Cameron, why should you be so nervous? You aren’t thinking of changing your mind, are you?”

 

            At last he managed a true smile as the carriage pulled away from the house. His index finger slipped beneath my bonnet, locating one of the curls I left for him.

 

            “Of course not. I don’t think I’ll know a moments peace until we are pronounced man and wife.”

 

            “We soon will be, then we may begin our life together.” I assured him with a grin.

 

            Bae was already at the church with Mrs. Lucas, our only two witnesses as we stood at the alter.

 

            “We gather here to witness the marriage of Belle French and Cameron Gold in holy matrimony. Should any man have just cause why these two should not be joined, let them speak now or for ever hold their peace.”

 

            A moment of silence passed before the preacher began again.

 

            “Marriage is…”

 

            “I object!” A voice rang out, echoing through the mostly empty chapel. With a small gasp I turned, surprised to see Killian Jones darkening the doorway.

 

            “You have just cause, I trust?” The preacher questioned.

 

            “Mrs. Gold surely must. As she is alive and well at Thornfield.” Killian announced with a great pride. He glared at Cameron, certain that he had achieved an upper hand.

 

            “Alive perhaps, well is debatable.” I heard Cameron reply. It felt as though cold water rushed into my stomach.

 

            “It’s true?” My voice was small, unrecognizable even to myself.

 

            “I’m sorry, Belle.” He managed before taking my hand. With a sharp turn to the preacher he announced, “Go home, sir. There will be no wedding today. Come, everyone come, I will show you what shadow remains of Milah Gold.” 


	11. Honesty and Loss

            The journey back to Thornfield felt like an eternity. Cameron refused to wait for the carriage, so we walked the entire way back. His hand holding mine the whole way. Bae, Mrs. Lucas, Killan, and the preacher all followed. I felt nothing as we went… well nothing but shame. Perhaps embarrassment at my own naivety, my stupidity in believing that this would go smoothly. I felt a fool for expecting my happiness to last longer than a month.

 

            We arrived at Thornfield, mostly out of breath but unable to stop. Cameron led the way up the stairs, past his bedroom then my own, continuing to the door that led to the tower. The strange woman I had seen lurking around the castle was there in an outer room, trying to stop the party from continuing on. But he would not be stopped as he opened the second door.

 

            “Here, what remains of Milah Gold.” He threw the door open and pulled me in after him.

 

            Huddled in the corner was  ghostly looking woman. Her black hair hung in messy curtains, creating a stark contrast to her pale complexion. Her eyes were wild, slowly looking over all who had suddenly entered her room. Without warning she lunged for me, pulling at the delicate veil covering my face and ripping it.

 

            “Mother?” Bae asked, slowly stepping forward. Before we knew what happened Milah made a lunge for the boy, trying to catch him with her nails. Without thinking I moved in front of the boy, letting her rip my veil instead of hurting Bae.

 

            I turned towards him, keeping his face covered so he wouldn’t have to witness his father and Killian wrestle his mother to the ground. Ushering the boy from the room we were followed by a very pale preacher and eventually the two men.

 

            “Dearest, go with Mrs. Lucas.” I suddenly found my voice, guiding him to the door where the older woman was waiting. Rather than a sympathetic expression I found her glaring towards Mr. Gold. Not for the state of his wife, but for trying to commit such an act that involved me.

 

            “Can anyone wonder, truly wonder why I would rather Belle French as my wife? A woman who would put herself between danger and my son rather than trying to kill him?”

 

            “Kill him? She was startled, probably the first time she has seen the boy since you so viciously locked her up.” Killian objected.

 

            “The night you sprung her from the institution and returned her here, that night she tried to kill my son in his sleep” Mr. Gold was furious, seething with displeasure as he slowly moved towards Mr. Jones, forcing his back against the wall. “Do not presume to know the inner workings of my family. I would remind you that you were a dalliance to her, nothing more than a fleeting thought through her sick mind.”

 

            I couldn’t handle any more.

 

            Quietly I slipped back to the hallway, hiding away in my room, careful to lock the door behind me.

 

            _“Belle… Belle…”_ He called as he knocked gently on the door. _“Belle, please, darling. Please open the door.”_

 

            Ignoring his voice I proceeded to pull the tattered veil and hat from my head, setting it aside on dresser. Next I carefully reached my hands to my back, pulling at the laces of my dress until I could free myself. There was no bride at Thornfield. Fate had spoken, there was to be no happiness for me, no happy ending for the unfortunate Belle French. Somewhere in the great beyond I could just tell that Mr. Glass was smiling vindictively.

 

            Back in my everyday clothes, I slowly looked at myself in the mirror. The pearls. They still hung around my neck. Mocking me.

 

            “Belle!” He startled gently as I opened the door.

 

            “I need some help, I can’t take these off on my own.” I said, turning back so that he could manage the clasp of my necklace.

 

            “You’ve changed.” He observed, looking over my dress.

 

            “I am not to be a bride, no reason to stay in the costume.” I whispered as his fingers grazed the back of my neck.

 

            “Please, please let me explain.”

 

            “What is there to explain?” I asked, taking the pearls and returning them to their pouch before taking a seat on the end of the bed.

 

            “Apologize then. I am truly sorry, Belle. It was a selfish act and quite wrong of me to bring you into it all. Milah… she isn’t well. She hasn’t been since… well, she never really was.”

 

            “Then why marry her?”

 

            “I was tricked by her father. They had trained her well enough to control herself while searching for a husband. Of course they were thrilled by my prospects. A fortune, place in society, and a large estate to take her away to. My own family was pleased with her family’s wealth as well. Everything started out well enough, there were a few lapses in personality but then we had Bae and I thought that motherhood would help balance her. It had the opposite effect, I’m afraid. A few months after the boy was born she ran off. I found her in Paris, with that bastard Jones.”

 

            Finding my weariness getting the best of me, I slowly leaned back onto the bed, Cameron following me. He turned on his side so that he could look down at me, twirling the loose curl I left for him around his index finger.

 

            “Her episodes were more and more frequent after that. Instead of bringing her home I took her to a sanitarium where she would be under constant supervision. Problem was, she liked to run away and her faithful lover was so keen to break her out time and time again. The last time he freed her she decided it was time to return home…”

 

            He paused, his hand moving to ghost across my collar bone.

 

            “The first night she was back something… something snapped, I found her in Bae’s room, pressing a pillow to his face. There was nothing else I could think to do. There was a place… a place that would have eventually stolen her life, but I couldn’t do that… not even to her.”

 

            His fingers were warm against my skin, slowly tracing lines that I knew weren’t there. My eyes slowly drifted shut as his lips found mine, softly and repeatedly. For a number of minutes we did nothing but kiss, relishing what was soon to be taken away, for a plan was already forming in my mind.

 

            “We can run away, Belle. To my house on the Mediterranean. We can run and take Bae with us, raise him together, we could be together.” He offered, staring down at me. I could tell by looking in his eyes that he knew this was a false hope… that I would never agree to such a sinful life.

 

            “I must leave Thornfield.” I whispered, pushing stray hairs away from his face.

 

            He swiftly closed the space between us again, kissing me harder than before. The suddenness took me by surprise, a moan escaping my throat before I could silence it.

 

            “Tell me now, tell me that you can leave me.” Cameron’s eyes had a desperate gleam.

 

            “I don’t want to leave you, but… I can’t stay, not when we can’t…” A sob caught me off guard as a few stray tears fell from my eyes.

 

            “Please don’t.” He whispered. I turned to my side, resting my head against his shoulder as his arms encircled me. This would be the last warmth I’d ever feel.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            I woke early the next morning, it was still dark when I rose. Cameron… Mr. Gold returned to his room only a few hours earlier, believing that life was going to return to normal.

 

            There was no conceivable way I could remain at Thornfield. No way I could carry on my everyday life mere feet away from the man I loved and desired so ardently. Creeping past his closed door I hurried along to Bae’s room. The boy was still asleep, quite unaware of the turmoil going on in the house. Pressing a quick kiss to his forehead, I smoothed down his hair before leaving the room.

 

            With one last look at the house that was supposed to be my home this morning, I pulled up the hood of my cloak and ran.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            By the time I reached the woods I was quite out of breath, but I knew if I took a slower pace I would have talked myself out of leaving.

 

            Hours… days… I don’t know how long I walked. All the while I heard Cameron Gold’s voice echoing on the wind. Another ghost to haunt me, sweet Helen Hood would have company when she appeared in my dreams.

 

            It took quite a while before I realized it was raining. I was up to ankles in mud as I trudged through the storm. If I didn’t find shelter soon I would certainly be joining my friend. For the first time since I left Thornfield I acknowledged that I was going to need a place to stay… it would never be home again, just somewhere to rest. This is how I found myself at Moor House. Cold, unconscious, and being carried into the house by a kindly red haired man. 


	12. Moor House

The Moor House was small, cozy, welcoming. When I came around I found myself tucked into a warm bed, a charming brunette seated in a nearby chair. Setting her needlepoint aside, she smiled brightly.

 

“Oh, you’re awake! Thank goodness, we were worried.” She stood, moving to get a closer look at me. The woman was petite and cheerful, her mood an alarming contrast to my own. “You must be hungry, dear. Let me fetch some broth for you.”

 

Without another word she hurried from the room, leaving me alone to examine my surroundings. The fire was roaring, keeping me comfortably warm, though I could feel the beginnings of a cold twinge in my nose. For a moment I could pretend that a red nose was the worst of my problems. That my heart wasn’t broken. That my body didn’t hate my mind for running from Cameron. I closed my eyes tightly, wishing the tears away. My arms longed to hold him, I could feel my legs urging me to get out of bed and run back to Thorn Field.

 

“What are you doing up?” The woman asked, returning to the room with a tray in hand. “Must be a fever, you were a bit delirious when my brother found you.”

 

She put the tray aside and coaxed me back into bed. Pulling the covers up to my chest and presenting me with the bowl of broth.

 

“My name is Mary Margret by the way. What’s yours?”

 

“Belle… where am I?”

 

“The Moor House. Oh, you poor dear. You must not remember. My brother Archie found you huddled outside our door. He and my husband, David brought you up here. So Miss Belle, from where do you come to us from? I’ve been so curious these past few days, waiting for you to wake.”

 

“Days?”

 

“Yes! You’ve been asleep for almost four days now. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake. Now tell me about yourself.”

 

“I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell.”

 

Mary Margaret scoffed at this, taking my hand in hers.

 

“These are not the hands of a woman with a hard life. These are the hands of a genteel, well bred lady. Is that it? Are you a goodly, kindly lady?”

 

“I strive to be good and kind, but I am not a lady… a governess.”

 

“Ah! A teacher! How marvelous! We are in need of a teacher in the village. If you should like to stay perhaps you would be a good fit.” She smiled. Mary Margaret did not stop talking for the next hour. I began to wonder if she was in this house alone and had no one else to speak to. But a voice from the door interrupted her, finally bringing her to a pause.

 

“Sister, don’t overwhelm the poor woman.” The man was tall and slender, with a shock of red hair that he must have struggled to make lie flat. He smiled shyly at me, taking the seat in the opposite corner of the room. “David is looking for you, I will sit with our guest for a while.”

 

“Of course. Oh how wonderful to have you here with us, Miss Belle! When I saw Archie and David bring you in I was worried for a moment that you might be some sort of murderer, but you are a goodly, kindly teacher. I can’t tell you how that pleases me!”

 

Archie laughed as his sister hurried out of the room in search of her husband. I merely shook my head, trying to absorb the silence that had finally presented itself.

 

“She’s very excitable.”

 

“She’s charming.”

 

“Yes. The only other woman in the house is the maid and she won’t put up with Mary Margaret’s chattering for very long.”

 

“I suppose I could understand that. Though it is nice to have a distraction from my thoughts.” I admit quietly, looking towards the window. The storm clouds that were present when I stumbled to the Moor House remained, darkening the skies. “What do you do, Mr…?”

 

“Hopper, but feel free to call me Archie. My sister will certainly insist that you do. The formality would crush her. I am a clergyman, my parish is in the village but I like to come here and visit with my family while I have the opportunity.”

 

“Do you anticipate not having the opportunity in the future?” I asked quietly, turning my attention back to him.

 

“He is to become a missionary. Foolish brother of mine.” Mary Margaret explained, breezing back into the room and retaking her seat next to my bed.

 

“It is the Lord’s work, sister.”

 

“You will be sent somewhere hot and surely be driven mad with fever.”

 

“You worry too much.” He chastised her.

 

“You worry too little.” She retorted. “Has Miss Belle told you? She is a teacher!”

 

“You told me, Mary Margaret.” He smiled, falling silent as she picked up steam again.

 

“I thought she might fill in nicely at the school.”

 

“Teachers usually do.”

 

“You are in a playful mood tonight. I assure you Miss Belle, he is rarely so lively and quick to reply. You must bring it out in him.”

 

* * *

 

Slowly the months began to pass. I became the village teacher, living in the small cottage allotted by the school. My days were full of students and friends, while Cameron Gold haunted my nights. Every night, every sleep consumed with thoughts of the dark man and his son. Some nights I would wake in tears while others I was convinced that these were not dreams but reality. No matter what, I always woke alone with a pain in my heart.

 

“Girls please practice your lessons.” I called as the girls rushed outside, all eager to return to their homes. On their way out they ran into Archie, each one bumping into him and muttering a quick apology.

 

“Are they supposed to be that eager to leave?” He asked, turning to watch the last of the girls run.

 

“No lessons tomorrow, they’re excited.” I smiled, putting away the books and demonstrations from the day’s lessons. It took a moment to realize that Archie had gone silent, thumbing through the open sketchbook on my desk.

 

“Belle French.” He murmured, running his finger across my small signature in the corner of a sketch I had done of Thorn Field.

 

“What is it, Archie?”

 

“A man. There has been a man making inquiries about you. He said something about a place called Thorn Field…”

 

“Cam—Mr. Gold, how is he? Was there word?” I asked, as eager as the students I had just dismissed.

 

“Not a Mr. Gold. A solicitor, settling the estate of a man who claimed to be the uncle of Belle French. The letter came to me from Thornfield.” He held out the page to me and I instantly recognized the handwriting of Mrs. Lucas. Biting my lip I just nodded, breaking the seal.

 

“What is it, Miss Belle?”

 

“An uncle I did not know, my mother’s brother… he has left me… oh…” I gasped, reading the paper. “20,000 pounds.”

 

“There is something else, Belle…” He paused, looking down to something else he was holding on to.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Perhaps I will tell you tomorrow.” He shrugged, moving for the door.

 

“Archibald!” I called after him.

 

“It would seem that your uncle was also my uncle.”

 

“We are…?”

 

“Cousins, half cousins.”

 

Something inside me sparked, a happiness I had never known. Without thinking I threw myself into his arms.

 

“You find out you have 20,000 pounds to your name and barely bat an eye. But to hear of a half cousin…”

 

“I treasure family far more than money. I have never had either but only ever longed for one. If you are my cousin then that means Mary Margaret is as well! Come, we must tell her the good news immediately.” I decided, taking his arm and leading him out of the school house.

 

“Belle, there was something… something I wished to discuss with you. Now seems as good a time as any.”

 

“What is it, Archie?” I asked, not paying him much attention, too wrapped up in the happiness of my new connections.

 

“I am to leave soon for my missionary trip.”

 

“If Mary Margaret does not barricade the doors.”

 

“Yes.” He laughed nervously. “I was wondering… well, would you like to come with me? As my wife?”

 

“Wh… what?” I stammered, jerking my head to the side suddenly. That was not what I expected to hear.

 

“Marry me, Belle. We can travel the world together, doing the Lord’s work.” He pleaded, coming to a halt and taking my hands in his. In comparison to Mr. Gold Archie’s hands were weak. I felt nothing spike through me at his touch but regret.

 

“But, I do not love you.” I finally managed.

 

“Does that make a difference?” He asked meekly. “Love may come in time, until then we could be friends.”

 

“I’m sorry, Archie. I’ve never intended to marry again. Not after… after what happened…”

 

“You mean Mr. Gold?” I paused, mouth agape at the mention of his name. “You were not the only one to receive a letter, Belle. A Mr. Cameron Gold, set to marry his son’s governess only to reveal at the alter a hidden lunatic wife. Oh yes, I know all about your previous… _love_ affair.”

 

“Believe what you will, Archie. But he is the only man I have ever and will ever love. I cannot marry you.”

 

I carried on to the house, met at the door by a giddy Mary Margaret.

 

“Are you to be my sister?” She asked in delight, her face falling slightly at the sight of a downtrodden Archie trailing behind me.

 

“You will have to settle for cousin, dearest.” I replied. Her face some how managed to fall further.

 

“But…” She began.

 

“Miss Belle has spoken on the matter.” Archie murmured, passing by us and into the house.

 

* * *

 

The Moor House was suddenly tense. Much tenser than I ever knew it to be. Despite the fine mist of rain in the air I decided to don my cloak and go for a walk. Looking out over the scenery I couldn’t help but let my thoughts drift to Mr. Gold again. How he looked the night before I left, how his fingers felt against my skin. In that moment I could have sworn I heard him calling my name. Over and over again, with each howl of the wind I heard him call me. It was time to return to Thorn Field.


	13. Whole Again

            It felt as though an eternity had passed as I journeyed back to Thorn Field. I struggled to sit still as the coach continued on towards the crossroads. My mind ran through every possible scenario upon my return. Would he shut me out? Tell me that I decided to leave so I have no right to come back? And Bae… he had already been cast aside by his mother, while I hadn’t fully taken on the role I did promise not to leave him.

 

            When the coach reached the stop I climbed nervously to solid ground, taking my lone bag in hand and fastening my cloak tighter. The day was cold and grey, foreboding in a way. Only serving to add to my nerves. But I had heard his voice and he was calling for me. Hallucination or not I could feel the truth in the auditory apparition. Something wasn’t right.

 

            I walked quickly. Not caring about the harsh wind or the threatening skies. I needed to be at Thorn Field immediately. In the final stretch I broke into a run, hurrying through the woods where Mr. Gold and I first met.

 

            “No.” I managed to gasp as the house came into sight… well what was left of the grand manor. What once stood tall and bright was now a burnt ruin. The top floors completely gone, the tower that once housed Milah Gold destroyed. It was uninhabitable, there was no possible way anyone could still reside there.

 

            “No.” I sobbed, sinking to the ground beneath me. Not concerned with the damp grass or the mud on my boots.

 

            “Never thought I’d see you again.” Came a voice from behind me. Turning quickly I struggled to keep from smiling.

 

            “Mrs. Lucas.”

 

            “Miss Belle. You should come in, far too cold to be lingering outside.”

 

            “What… what happened?”

 

            “Mrs. Gold. Not long after you left she managed to get out again in the middle of the night. Started a fire using your wedding gown as kindle. Everything was ablaze so quickly… Mr. Gold got Bae to me, made sure we got outside before he went to get her. We were out in the courtyard, waiting for them to come out when I heard her laughing. She was up at the top of the tower, waving her arms about, screaming and laughing. Then I saw him… moving to get to her, trying to convince her to come away from the edge. But she just took one long look at him before jumping… tried to shield the boy from seeing too much of it.”

 

            “And… and Mr. Gold?” I asked, terrified to hear the answer. He couldn’t possibly be dead. No, he couldn’t. I would feel it if he were dead, if his soul had left this earth I would have known, I would have felt it in my own soul. Even without being married we both knew that we were somehow intertwined on a spiritual level.

 

            “Staircase collapsed as he was coming back down…”

 

            “He isn’t… tell me he isn’t…”

 

            “Badly injured, but very much alive.” She said reassuringly, with a compassion that was foreign for her. “I’ll take you to him, if you’d like.”

 

            “Please. Oh, thank you, Mrs. Lucas.” We were halfway down the hill when she stopped and turned to face me.

 

            “Are you here to stay? If you’re fixing to run off again I won’t take you. The boy wouldn’t be able to handle it and Mr. Gold would be worse. I want your word.”

 

            “Mrs. Lucas, he is my home... they are my home.” With a nod she continued on. Through the woods on the opposite side of the manor was a small two story house.

 

            “Mrs. Lucas! Is that you!” His voice called out from the front room. She gave me a nudge, urging me in his direction. “Mercy’s sake woman, where have you been?”

 

            I froze when I saw him. His leg was propped up on an ottoman, Pilot sat by his side. There was a cane leaning against the chair, this was more than just a passing pain. His eyes were covered with a bandaged, obscuring his sight completely. I could see traces of scars straying from behind the bandage.

 

            “Well woman…” He paused for a moment, listening as I crossed the room and Pilot began to whine. “Who is it? Who’s there?”

 

            Pilot hurried to my side, nudging his head against my hand in search of affection.

 

            “Pilot!” He admonished the dog, which whimpered and returned to his master’s side. I took the opportunity to move closer until I was within his reach. “Who’s there?”

 

            “Pilot recognizes me, sir.” He gasped at the sound of my voice, reaching out and finding my hands.

 

            “Is this another dream? Am I finally slipping into madness?”

 

            “No madness, sir. You are far too stubborn to surrender your mind to that.” I smiled, lifting his hands to my lips.

 

            “I know these hands, and those lips.” He pulled me against him, holding tightly as if I was apt to suddenly fade away. “I want to see you, I have to look for myself.”

 

            “Not if it will keep you from healing.” I chided, allowing him to sit back down as his hands reached for the bandage.

 

            “Belle? My Belle, is that truly you?” Cameron asked, pulling desperately at the bandage wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.

 

            “Yes, Mr. Gold. I have come back for you.”

 

            “The spirits aren’t playing tricks on me?”

 

            “Not that I’m aware of.” I laughed, covering his hands with my own and gently pulled the bandage away. “There, you see. I am here.”

 

            He stared up at me, a looking of shock on his face before pulling me into his lap. Murmuring my name he took my hands in his own, wincing with pain as the bandaged hand clenched me tightly.

 

            “My Belle. I’m sorry you’ve returned to find a half man.” He all but whimpered, resting his head against my shoulder.

 

            “I see no half man. I see the man that I love, the man that I’ve loved for my whole life, even without knowing him.”

 

            “You tease me, for I am the only man in this room.”

 

            “Then I must be speaking of you, Cameron.”

 

            “Say my name again, Belle. I’ve dreamt of you night after night, waking with your voice ringing in my ears.” He released my hand to smooth back my hair and kiss my cheek. “I still don’t believe you’re here.”

 

            “You think me a vision? A liar?”

 

            “Of course. I’ve dreamt of you night after night. Dreamt of kissing you, holding you, and yet I always wake in darkness, alone.”

 

            “How shall I prove my existence to you, sir?”

 

            “Kiss me, embrace me, Belle.”

 

            With a smile I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, then to the scars around his eyes, then along his jaw before reaching his mouth again.

 

            “My same Belle.”

 

            “Hardly, sir. I am an independent woman now.”

 

            “Independent?”

 

            “An unknown uncle died, left me a hefty sum… most of which I have given away, but I am quite self-sufficient now.”

 

            “Well, you are truly here. I never would have dreamt such detail. An independent woman? Quite rich then?”

 

            “Yes. If I am not to live here I could build a house of my own nearby. See you for tea in my parlor when you are in want of company?”

 

            “Rich… you have options now, you no longer have to tie yourself to the likes of me.”

 

            “You are the only man I want to tie my life to… I know this for certain. I will be anything you want me to be, Cameron. Wife or nurse or companion. So long as I live I will be at your side… If you’ll have me, that is.”

 

            “Belle, you must never leave me again. Your absence these past few months have taken their toll, more so than these damn injuries ever could. My soul has ached for you.” He confessed, pressing his lips to my neck.

 

            “Well, sir. I will stay with you.” I settled against him to let him know I meant what I said. “Now, when do you take supper?”

 

            “I never take supper.”

 

            “You will tonight. I am hungry and I’m certain you are as well.”

 

            Mrs. Lucas brought in a tray to the sitting room, an early supper that we shared before he pulled me back to his lap.

 

            “Have you a comb upon you?” I asked, trying to sort out his messy hair with my fingers but finding the effort rather futile.

 

            “Why’s that? Do I look hideous?”

 

            “Always.” I laughed. He let out a chuckle that shook my body with its force.

 

            “Still as wicked, Belle, no matter where you have been.”

 

            “I have been with good people. Far better than you, fine Christians with mild tempers.”

 

            “These are the people of the Moor House you mentioned over supper?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “Tell me, Belle, these fine Christians… were they women?” He asked, I could hear a kernel of jealousy lingering in his tone.

 

            “A married couple and her brother.”

 

            “What of the brother?”

 

            “A very nice man.”

 

            “Unmarried?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “An old man, yes? Probably a dolt in his 50s with no appeal to a woman?”

 

            “Not at all, Archie was only a few years older than myself. He ran the parish of the village.”

 

            “Terribly dull, yes? Overly talkative about obscure religious texts.”

 

            “Hardly. I found him to be very interesting,” I said with a thoughtful smile. I could feel Cameron tense beneath me. “He did not speak at great lengths but when he did there was always a point.”

 

            “You like him?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “You may move from my lap if you’d like.”

 

            “I’m quite comfortable here.”

 

            “Did he propose marriage to you? This Archie.”

 

            “He did.”

 

            “You may get up.”

 

            “No.”

 

            “You love this man, intend to marry him. It is his lap you should occupy, not mine.”

 

            “Shake me off then, sir. Push me away, for I’ll not leave you of my own accord.” I informed him sternly, wrapping my arms around his neck.

 

            “You do not wish to marry him?” He asked in surprise.

 

            “While being a very decent man, I do not love him. And he does not love me. He wanted a suitable wife for mission work. But has no actual passion for me, not really.”

 

            “I have passion for you, Belle. And love and affection.”

 

            “And I you, sir.” My lips fell to his and stayed there until the door flew open.

 

            “Papa, Mrs. Lucas said we had… Miss Belle… what are you doing here?” He asked, more disturbed by my general presence than by the fact that I was perched on his father’s good leg, kissing him.

 

            “Bae.” I smiled, standing up so that I could hug the boy. But he shrugged away, moving towards the door.

 

            “No.” He shouted before running out the front door.

 

            “Should I?” I asked, turning back to Cameron. He took his cane in hand and ushered me out after Bae. He stopped at the front stairs and sat, waiting for me to bring his son back.

 

            Making my way across the grass I found him sitting near the stream.

 

            “I’ve missed you, dearest Bae.” I offered softly, settling on the ground next to him.

 

            “I don’t believe you. And I haven’t missed you, Miss French.” His tone was hard, like one that belonged to his father.

 

            “I have. I’ve thought of you everyday since I left.”

 

            “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”

 

            “I know… I’m sorry, Bae… please believe me, I didn’t leave because of you.”

 

            “Because of papa? Because he lied?”

 

            “Partly. I was confused and hurt after what had happened.” I confessed to the boy who was starting to look in my direction again. “I really did miss you.”

 

            “I may have missed you some.” He finally muttered, leaning against my side. “Are you here to stay now?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “Forever?”

 

            “Forever.”

 

            “Good.” He nodded quietly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Cameron and I were married shortly after my return, perfectly right in the eyes of the law and the Lord. A baby sister for Bae quickly followed, then a baby brother. Darkness seemed to leave our world as we welcomed our children and built a life together, it was as if we had always been one. We remained in the small house as Thornfield was restored to it’s former glory. No longer a gloomy manor, but a warm home, a tribute to the happiness and love that now existed in the Gold family and would continue on forever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

And that’s all she wrote. Thanks for reading. 


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